FirstpublishedbyTheWriter’sCoffeeShop,2011
Copyright©ELJames,2011
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www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/ejames
ELJamesisaTVexecutive,wife,andmotheroftwo,basedinWestLondon.
Sinceearlychildhood,shedreamtofwritingstoriesthatreaderswouldfallin
lovewith,butputthosedreamsonholdtofocusonherfamilyandhercareer.
Shefinallypluckedupthecouragetoputpentopaperwithherfirstnovel,
FiftyShadesofGrey.
ELJamesiscurrentlyworkingonthesequeltoFiftyShadesDarkeranda
newromanticthrillerwithasupernaturaltwist.
IoweahugedebtofgratitudetoSarah,Kay,andJada.Thankyouforallthat
youhavedoneforme.
AlsoHUGEthankstoKathleenandKristiwhosteppedintothebreachand
sortedstuffout.
ThankyoutootoNiall,myhusband,mylover,andmybestfriend(mostof
thetime).
Andabigshoutouttoallthewonderful,wonderfulwomenfromalloverthe
worldwhomIhavehadthepleasureofmeetingsinceIstartedallthis,and
whomInowconsiderfriends,including:Ale,Alex,Amy,Andrea,Angela,
Azucena,Babs,Bee,Belinda,Betsy,Brandy,Britt,Caroline,Catherine,
Dawn,Gwen,Hannah,Janet,Jen,Jenn,Jill,Kathy,Katie,Kel-lie,Kelly,Liz,
Mandy,Margaret,Natalia,Nicole,Nora,Olga,Pam,Pauline,Raina,Raizie,
Rajka,Rhian,Ruth,Steph,Susi,Tasha,TaylorandUna.Andalsotothe
many,manytalented,funny,warmwomen(andmen)Ihavemetonline.You
knowwhoyouare.
ThankstoMorganandJennforallthingsHeathman.
Andfinally,thankyoutoJanine,myeditor.Yourock.Thatisall.
He’scomeback.Mommy’sasleeporshe’ssickagain.
Ihideandcurlupsmallunderthetableinthekitchen.ThroughmyfingersI
canseeMommy.Sheisasleeponthecouch.Herhandisonthestickygreen
rug,andhe’swearinghisbigbootswiththeshinybuckleandstandingover
Mommyshouting.
HehitsMommywithabelt.Getup!Getup!Youareonefucked-upbitch.You
areonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-up
bitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.
Mommymakesasobbingnoise.Stop.Pleasestop.Mommydoesn’tscream.
Mommycurlsupsmall.
Ihavemyfingersinmyears,andIclosemyeyes.Thesoundstops.
HeturnsandIcanseehisbootsashestompsintothekitchen.Hestillhasthe
belt.Heistryingtofindme.
Hestoopsdownandgrins.Hesmellsnasty.Ofcigarettesanddrink.Thereyou
are,youlittleshit.
Achillingwailwakeshim.Christ!He’sdrenchedinsweatandhisheartis
pounding.Whatthefuck?Hesitsboltuprightinbedandputshisheadin
hands.Fuck.They’reback.Thenoisewasme.Hetakesadeepsteadying
breath,tryingtoridhismindandnostrilsofthesmellofcheapbourbonand
staleCamelcigarettes.
IhavesurvivedDayThreePost-Christian,andmyfirstdayatwork.Ithas
beenawelcomedistraction.Thetimehasflownbyinahazeofnewfaces,
worktodo,andMr.JackHyde.
Mr.JackHyde…hesmilesdownatme,hisblueeyestwinkling,asheleans
againstmydesk.“Excellentwork,Ana.Ithinkwe’regoingtomakeagreat
team.”
Somehow,Imanagetocurlmylipsupwardinasemblanceofasmile.
“I’llbeoff,ifthat’sokaywithyou,”Imurmur.
“Ofcourse,it’sfivethirty.I’llseeyoutomorrow.”
“Goodnight,Jack.”
“Goodnight,Ana.”
Collectingmybag,Ishrugonmyjacketandheadforthedoor.Outinthe
earlyeveningairofSeattle,Itakeadeepbreath.Itdoesn’tbegintofillthe
voidinmychest,avoidthat’sbeenpresentsinceSaturdaymorning,apainful
hollowreminderofmyloss.Iwalktowardthebusstopwithmyheaddown,
staringatmyfeetandcontemplatingbeingwithoutmybelovedWanda,my
oldBeetle…ortheAudi.
Ishutthedooronthatthoughtimmediately.No.Don’tthinkabouthim.Of
course,Icanaffordacar—anice,newcar.Isuspecthehasbeen
overgenerousinhispayment,andthethoughtleavesabittertasteinmy
mouth,butIdismissitandtrytokeepmymindasnumbandasblankas
possible.Ican’tthinkabouthim.Idon’twanttostartcryingagain—
notoutonthestreet.
Theapartmentisempty.ImissKate,andIimagineherlyingonabeachin
Barbadossippingacoolcocktail.Iturnontheflat-screentelevisionsothere’s
noisetofillthevacuumandprovidesomesemblanceofcompany,butIdon’t
listenorwatch.Isitandstareblanklyatthebrickwall.Iamnumb.Ifeel
nothingbutthepain.HowlongmustIendurethis?
Thedoorbuzzerstartlesmefrommyanguish,andmyheartskipsabeat.Who
couldthatbe?Ipresstheintercom.
“DeliveryforMs.Steele.”Abored,disembodiedvoiceanswers,and
disappointmentcrashesthroughme.Ilistlesslymakemywaydownstairsand
findayoungmannoisilychewinggum,holdingalargecardboardbox,and
leaningagainstthefrontdoor.Isignforthepackageandtakeitupstairs.The
boxishugeandsurprisinglylight.Insidearetwodozenlong-stemmed,white
rosesandacard.
Congratulationsonyourfirstdayatwork.
Ihopeitwentwell.
Andthankyoufortheglider.Thatwasverythoughtful.
Ithasprideofplaceonmydesk.
Christian
Istareatthetypedcard,thehollowinmychestexpanding.Nodoubt,his
assistantsentthis.Christianprobablyhadverylittletodowithit.It’stoo
painfultothinkabout.Iexaminetheroses—theyarebeautiful,andIcan’t
bringmyselftothrowtheminthetrash.
Dutifully,Imakemywayintothekitchentohuntdownavase.
Andsoapatterndevelops:wake,work,cry,sleep.Well,trytosleep.Ican’t
evenescapehiminmydreams.Grayburningeyes,hislostlook,hishair
burnishedandbrightallhauntme.Andthemusic…somuchmusic—I
cannotbeartohearanymusic.Iamcarefultoavoiditatallcosts.Eventhe
jinglesincommercialsmakemeshudder.
Ihavespokentonoone,notevenmymotherorRay.Idon’thavethecapacity
foridletalknow.No,Iwantnoneofit.Ihavebecomemyownislandstate.A
ravaged,war-tornlandwherenothinggrowsandthehorizonsarebleak.Yes,
that’sme.Icaninteractimpersonallyatwork,butthat’sit.IfItalktoMom,I
knowIwillbreakevenfurther—andIhavenothinglefttobreak.
Iamfindingitdifficulttoeat.ByWednesdaylunchtime,Imanageacupof
yogurt,andit’sthefirstthingI’veeatensinceFriday.Iamsurvivingona
newfoundtoleranceforlattesandDietCoke.It’sthecaffeinethatkeepsme
going,butit’smakingmeanxious.
Jackhasstartedtohoveroverme,irritatingme,askingmepersonalquestions.
Whatdoeshewant?I’mpolite,butIneedtokeephimatarm’slength.
Isitandbegintrawlingthroughapileofcorrespondenceaddressedtohim,
andI’mpleasedwiththedistractionofmenialwork.Mye-mailpings,andI
quicklychecktoseewhoit’sfrom.
Holyshit.Ane-mailfromChristian.Ohno,nothere…notatwork.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:05
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
Forgivethisintrusionatwork.Ihopethatit’sgoingwell.Didyougetmy
flowers?
Inotethattomorrowisthegalleryopeningforyourfriend’sshow,andI’m
sureyou’venothadtimetopurchaseacar,andit’salongdrive.Iwouldbe
morethanhappytotakeyou—shouldyouwish.
Letmeknow.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Tearsswiminmyeyes.Ihastilyleavemydeskandbolttotherestroomto
escapeintooneofthestalls.José’sshow.Crap.I’dforgottenallaboutit,andI
promisedhimI’dgo.Shit,Christianisright;howamIgoingtogetthere?
Iclutchmyforehead.Whyhasn’tJoséphoned?Cometothinkofit—why
hasn’tanyonephoned?I’vebeensoabsentminded,Ihaven’tnoticedthatmy
cellphonehasbeensilent.
Shit!Iamsuchanidiot!IstillhaveitondiverttotheBlackberry.Holyhell.
Christian’sbeengettingmycalls—unlesshe’sjustthrowntheBlackberry
away.Howdidhegetmye-mailaddress?
Heknowsmyshoesize,ane-mailaddressishardlygoingtopresenthimwith
manyproblems.
CanIseehimagain?CouldIbearit?DoIwanttoseehim?Iclosemyeyes
andtiltmyheadbackasgriefandlonginglancethroughme.OfcourseIdo.
Perhaps,perhapsIcantellhimI’vechangedmymind…No,no,no.Icannot
bewithsomeonewhotakespleasureininflictingpainonme,someonewho
can’tloveme.
Torturousmemoriesflashthroughmymind—thegliding,holdinghands,
kissing,thebathtub,hisgentleness,hishumour,andhisdark,brooding,sexy
stare.Imisshim.It’sbeenfivedays,fivedaysofagonythathasfeltlikean
eternity.
Iwrapmyarmsaroundmybody,huggingmyselftightly,holdingmyself
together.Imisshim.Ireallymisshim…Ilovehim.Simple.
Icrymyselftosleepatnight,wishingIhadn’twalkedout,wishingthathe
couldbedifferent,wishingthatweweretogether.Howlongwillthishideous
overwhelmingfeelinglast?Iaminpurgatory.
AnastasiaSteele,youareatwork!Imustbestrong,butIwanttogotoJosé’s
show,anddeepdown,themasochistinmewantstoseeChristian.Takinga
deepbreath,Iheadbacktomydesk.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:25
To:ChristianGrey
HiChristian
Thankyoufortheflowers;theyarelovely.
Yes,Iwouldappreciatealift.
Thankyou.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
Checkingmyphone,Ifindthatitisstillswitchedtodivert.Jackisina
meeting,soIquicklycallJosé.
“Hi,José.It’sAna.”
“Hello,stranger.”Histoneissowarmandwelcomingit’salmostenoughto
pushmeovertheedgeagain.
“Ican’ttalklong.WhattimeshouldIbetheretomorrowforyourshow?”
“You’restillcoming?”Hesoundsexcited.
“Yes,ofcourse.”IsmilemyfirstgenuinesmileinfivedaysasIpicturehis
broadgrin.
“Seventhirty.”
“Seeyouthen.Good-bye,José.”
“Bye,Ana.”
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:27
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
WhattimeshallIcollectyou?
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:32
To:ChristianGrey
José’sshowstartsat7:30.Whattimewouldyousuggest?
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:34
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
Portlandissomedistanceaway.Ishallcollectyouat5:45.
Ilookforwardtoseeingyou.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Tomorrow
Date:June8,201114:38
To:ChristianGrey
Seeyouthen.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
Ohmy.I’mgoingtoseeChristian,andforthefirsttimeinfivedays,my
spiritsliftafractionandIallowmyselftowonderhowhe’sbeen.
Hashemissedme?ProbablynotlikeI’vemissedhim.Hashefoundanew
submissivefromwherevertheycomefrom?ThethoughtissopainfulthatI
dismissitimmediately.IlookatthepileofcorrespondenceIneedtosortfor
JackandtackleitasItrytopushChristianoutofmymindoncemore.
Thatnightinbed,Itossandturn,tryingtosleep.Itisthefirsttimeinawhile
Ihaven’tcriedmyselftosleep.
Inmymind’seye,IvisualizeChristian’sfacethelasttimeIsawhimasIleft
hisapartment.Historturedexpressionhauntsme.Irememberhedidn’twant
metogo,whichwasodd.WhywouldIstaywhenthingshadreachedsuchan
impasse?Wewereeachskirtingaroundourownissues—myfearof
punishment,hisfearof…what?Love?
Turningonmyside,Ihugmypillow,filledwithanoverwhelmingsadness.
Hethinkshedoesn’tdeservetobeloved.Whydoeshefeelthatway?Isit
somethingtodowithhisupbringing?Hisbirthmom,thecrackwhore?My
thoughtsplaguemeintotheearlyhoursuntileventuallyIfallintoafitful,
exhaustedsleep.
ThedaydragsanddragsandJackisunusuallyattentive.Isuspectit’sKate’s
plumdressandtheblackhigh-heeledbootsI’vestolenfromhercloset,butI
don’tdwellonthethought.
Iresolvetogoclothesshoppingwithmyfirstpaycheck.Thedressislooser
onmethanitwas,butIpretendnottonotice.
Finally,it’sfivethirty,andIcollectmyjacketandpurse,tryingtoquellmy
nerves.I’mgoingtoseehim!
“Doyouhaveadatetonight?”Jackasksashestrollspastmydeskonhisway
out.
“Yes.No.Notreally.”
Hecocksaneyebrowatme,hisinterestclearlypiqued.“Boyfriend?”
Iflush.“No,afriend.Anex-boyfriend.”
“Maybetomorrowyou’dliketocomeforadrinkafterwork.You’vehada
stellarfirstweek,Ana.Weshouldcelebrate.”Hesmilesandsomeunknown
emotionflitsacrosshisface,makingmeuneasy.
Puttinghishandsinhispockets,hesauntersthroughthedoubledoors.Ifrown
athisretreatingback.Drinkswiththeboss,isthatagoodidea?
Ishakemyhead.IhaveaneveningofChristianGreytogetthroughfirst.
HowamIgoingtodothis?Ihurryintotherestroomtomakelast-minute
adjustments.
Inthelargemirroronthewall,Itakealong,hardlookatmyface.Iammy
usualpaleself,darkcirclesroundmytoo-largeeyes.Ilookgaunt,haunted.
Jeez,IwishIknewhowtousemakeup.Iapplysomemascaraandeyeliner
andpinchmycheeks,hopingtobringsomecolourtheirway.Tidyingmyhair
sothatithangsartfullydownmyback,Itakeadeepbreath.Thiswillhaveto
do.
NervouslyIwalkthroughthefoyerwithasmileandawavetoClaireat
reception.IthinksheandIcouldbecomefriends.JackistalkingtoElizabeth
asIheadforthedoors.
Smilingbroadly,hehurriesovertoopenthemforme.
“Afteryou,Ana,”hemurmurs.
“Thankyou.”Ismile,embarrassed.
Outsideonthecurb,Tayloriswaiting.Heopensthereardoorofthecar.I
glancehesitantlyatJackwhohasfollowedmeout.He’slookingtowardthe
AudiSUVindismay.
Iturnandclimbintotheback,andtherehesits—ChristianGrey—wearinghis
greysuit,notie,hiswhiteshirtopenatthecollar.Hisgreyeyesareglowing.
Mymouthdries.Helooksgloriousexcepthe’sscowlingatme.Ohno!
“Whendidyoulasteat?”hesnapsasTaylorclosesthedoorbehindme.
Crap.“Hello,Christian.Yes,it’snicetoseeyou,too.”
“Idon’twantyoursmartmouthnow.Answerme.”Hiseyesblaze.
Holyshit.“Um…Ihadayogurtatlunchtime.Oh—andabanana.”
“Whendidyoulasthaveapropermeal?”heasksacidly.
Taylorslipsintothedriver’sseat,startsthecar,andpullsoutintothetraffic.
IglanceupandJackiswavingatme,thoughhowhecanseemethroughthe
darkglass,Idon’tknow.Iwaveback.
“Who’sthat?”Christiansnaps.
“Myboss.”Ipeekupatthebeautifulmanbesideme,andhismouthispressed
intoahardline.
“Well?Yourlastmeal?”
“Christian,thatreallyisnoneofyourconcern,”Imurmur,feeling
extraordinarilybrave.
“Whateveryoudoconcernsme.Tellme.”
No,itdoesn’t.Igroaninfrustration,rollingmyeyesheavenward,and
Christiannarrowshiseyes.Andforthefirsttimeinalongtime,Iwantto
laugh.Itryhardtostiflethegigglethatthreatenstobubbleup.Christian’s
facesoftensasIstruggletokeepastraightface,andIseeatraceofasmile
kisshisbeautifullysculpturedlips.
“Well?”heasks,hisvoicesofter.
“Pastaallavongole,lastFriday,”Iwhisper.
Hecloseshiseyesasfuryandpossiblyregret,sweepsacrosshisface.“Isee,”
hesays,hisvoiceexpressionless.“Youlooklikeyou’velostatleastfive
pounds,possiblymoresincethen.Pleaseeat,Anastasia,”hescolds.
Istaredownattheknottedfingersinmylap.Whydoeshealwaysmakeme
feellikeanerrantchild?
Heshiftsandturnstowardme.“Howareyou?”heasks,hisvoicestillsoft.
Well,I’mshitreally…Iswallow.“IfItoldyouIwasfine,I’dbelying.”
Heinhalessharply.“Me,too,”hemurmursandreachesoverandclaspsmy
hand.“Imissyou,”headds.
Ohno.Skinagainstskin.
“Christian,I—”
“Ana,please.Weneedtotalk.”
I’mgoingtocry.No.“Christian,I…please…I’vecriedsomuch,”I
whisper,tryingtokeepmyemotionsincheck
“Oh,baby,no.”Hetugsmyhand,andbeforeIknowitI’monhislap.Hehas
hisarmsaroundme,andhisnoseisinmyhair.“I’vemissedyousomuch,
Anastasia,”hebreathes.
Iwanttostruggleoutofhishold,tomaintainsomedistance,buthisarmsare
wrappedaroundme.He’spressingmetohischest.Imelt.Oh,thisiswhereI
wanttobe.
Irestmyheadagainsthim,andhekissesmyhairrepeatedly.Thisishome.
Hesmellsoflinen,fabricsoftener,bodywash,andmyfavouritesmell—
Christian.Foramoment,Iallowmyselftheillusionthatallwillbewell,and
itsoothesmyravagedsoul.
AfewminuteslaterTaylorpullstoastopatthecurb,eventhoughwe’restill
inthecity.
“Come”—Christianshiftsmeoffhislap—“we’rehere.”
What?
“Helipad—onthetopofthisbuilding.”Christianglancestowardthebuilding
bywayofexplanation.
Ofcourse.CharlieTango.TayloropensthedoorandIslideout.Hegivesme
awarm,avuncularsmilethatmakesmefeelsafe.Ismileback.
“Ishouldgiveyoubackyourhandkerchief.”
“Keepit,MissSteele,withmybestwishes.”
IflushasChristiancomesaroundthecarandtakesmyhand.Helooks
quizzicallyatTaylorwhostaresimpassivelybackathim,revealingnothing.
“Nine?”Christiansaystohim.
“Yes,sir.”
Christiannodsasheturnsandleadsmethroughthedoubledoorsintothe
grandiosefoyer.Irevelinthefeelofhislargehandandhislong,skilled
fingerscurledaroundmine.
Ifeelthefamiliarpull—Iamdrawn,Icarustohissun.Ihavebeenburned
already,andyethereIamagain.
Reachingtheelevators,hepressesthecallbutton.Ipeekupathim,andhe’s
wearinghisenigmatichalfsmile.Asthedoorsopen,hereleasesmyhandand
ushersmein.
ThedoorscloseandIriskasecondpeek.Heglancesdownatme,greyeyes
alive,andit’sthereintheairbetweenus,thatelectricity.It’spalpable.Ican
almosttasteit,pulsingbetweenus,drawingustogether.
“Ohmy,”IgaspasIbaskbrieflyintheintensityofthisvisceral,primal
attraction.
“Ifeelit,too,”hesays,hiseyescloudedandintense.
Desirepoolsdarkanddeadlyinmygroin.Heclaspsmyhandandgrazesmy
knuckleswithhisthumb,andallmymusclesclenchtightly,deliciously,deep
insideme.
Holycow.Howcanhestilldothistome?
“Pleasedon’tbiteyourlip,Anastasia,”hewhispers.
Igazeupathim,releasingmylip.Iwanthim.Here,now,intheelevator.
HowcouldInot?
“Youknowwhatitdoestome,”hemurmurs.
Oh,Istillaffecthim.Myinnergoddessstirsfromherfive-daysulk.
Abruptlythedoorsopen,breakingthespell,andwe’reontheroof.It’swindy,
anddespitemyblackjacket,I’mcold.Christianputshisarmaroundme,
pullingmeintohisside,andwehurryacrosstowhereCharlieTangostandsin
thecentreofthehelipadwithitsrotorbladesslowlyspinning.
Atall,blond,square-jawedmaninadarksuitleapsoutand,duckinglow,
runstowardus.ShakinghandswithChristian,heshoutsabovethenoiseof
therotors.
“Readytogo,sir.She’sallyours!”
“Allchecksdone?”
“Yes,sir.”
“You’llcollectheraroundeightthirty?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Taylor’swaitingforyououtfront.”
“Thankyou,Mr.Grey.SafeflighttoPortland.Ma’am.”Hesalutesme.
Withoutreleasingme,Christiannods,ducksdown,andleadsmetothe
helicopterdoor.
Onceinsidehebucklesmefirmlyintomyharness,cinchingthestrapstight.
Hegivesmeaknowinglookandhissecretsmile.
“Thisshouldkeepyouinyourplace,”hemurmurs.“ImustsayIdolikethis
harnessonyou.Don’ttouchanything.”
Iflushadeepcrimson,andherunshisindexfingerdownmycheekbefore
handingmetheheadphones.I’dliketotouchyou,too,butyouwon’tletme.I
scowlathim.Besides,he’spulledthestrapssotightIcanbarelymove.
Hesitsinhisseatandbuckleshimselfin,thenstartsrunningthroughallhis
pre-flightchecks.He’sjustsocompetent.It’sveryalluring.Heputsonhis
headphonesandflipsaswitchandtherotorsspeedup,deafeningme.
Turning,hegazesatme.“Ready,baby?”Hisvoiceechoesthroughthe
headphones.
“Yes.”
Hegrinshisboyishgrin.Wow—I’venotseenitforsolong.
“Sea-Tactower,thisisCharlieTango—TangoEchoHotel,clearedfortake-
offtoPortlandviaPDX.Pleaseconfirm,over.”
Thedisembodiedvoiceoftheairtrafficcontrolleranswers,issuing
instructions.
“Roger,tower,CharlieTangoset,overandout.”Christianflipstwoswitches,
graspsthestick,andthehelicopterrisesslowlyandsmoothlyintotheevening
sky.
Seattleandmystomachdropawayfromus,andthere’ssomuchtosee.
“We’vechasedthedawn,Anastasia,nowthedusk,”hisvoicecomesthrough
ontheheadphones.Iturntogapeathiminsurprise.
Whatdoesthismean?Howisitthathecansaythemostromanticthings?He
smiles,andIcan’thelpbutsmileshylybackathim.
“Aswellastheeveningsun,there’smoretoseethistime,”hesays.
ThelasttimeweflewtoSeattleitwasdark,butthiseveningtheviewis
spectacular,literallyoutofthisworld.We’reupamongthetallestbuildings,
goinghigherandhigher.
“Escala’soverthere.”Hepointstowardthebuilding.“Boeingthere,andyou
canjustseetheSpaceNeedle.”
Icranemyhead.“I’veneverbeen.”
“I’lltakeyou—wecaneatthere.”
What?“Christian,webrokeup.”
“Iknow.Icanstilltakeyouthereandfeedyou.”Heglaresatme.
Ishakemyheadandflushbeforetakingalessconfrontationalapproach.“It’s
verybeautifuluphere,thankyou.”
“Impressive,isn’tit?”
“Impressivethatyoucandothis.”
“Flatteryfromyou,MissSteele?ButI’mamanofmanytalents.”
“I’mfullyawareofthat,Mr.Grey.”
Heturnsandsmirksatme,andforthefirsttimeinfivedays,Irelaxalittle.
Perhapsthiswon’tbesobad.
“How’sthenewjob?”
“Good,thankyou.Interesting.”
“What’syourbosslike?”
“Oh,he’sokay.”HowcanItellChristianthatJackmakesmeuncomfortable?
Christianturnsandgazesatme.
“What’swrong?”heasks.
“Asidefromtheobvious,nothing.”
“Theobvious?”
“Oh,Christian,youreallyareveryobtusesometimes.”
“Obtuse?Me?I’mnotsureIappreciateyourtone,MissSteele.”
“Well,don’tthen.”
Hislipstwitchintoasmile.“Ihavemissedyoursmartmouth.”
IgaspandIwanttoshout,I’vemissedyou—allofyou—notjustyourmouth!
ButIkeepquietandgazeouttheglassfishbowlthatisCharlieTango’s
windshieldaswecontinuesouth.Theduskistoourright,thesunlowonthe
horizon—large,blazingfieryorange—
andIamIcarusagain,flyingfartooclose.
TheduskhasfollowedusfromSeattle,andtheskyisawashwithopal,pinks,
andaquamarineswovenseamlesslytogetherasonlyMotherNatureknows
how.It’saclear,crispevening,andthelightsofPortlandtwinkleandwink,
welcomingusasChristiansetsthehelicopterdownonthehelipad.Weareon
topofthestrangebrownbrickbuildinginPortlandweleftlessthanthree
weeksago.
Jeez,it’sbeenhardlyanytimeatall.YetIfeellikeI’veknownChristianfora
lifetime.
HepowersdownCharlieTango,flippingvariousswitchessotherotorsstop,
andeventuallyallIhearismyownbreathingthroughtheheadphones.Hmm.
BrieflyitremindsmeoftheThomasTallisexperience.Iblanch.Isodon’t
wanttogothererightnow.
Christianunbuckleshisharnessandleansacrosstoundomine.
“Goodtrip,MissSteele?”heasks,hisvoicemild,hisgreyeyesglowing.
“Yes,thankyou,Mr.Grey,”Ireplypolitely.
“Well,let’sgoseetheboy’sphotos.”Heholdshishandouttomeandtaking
it,IclimboutofCharlieTango.
Agrey-hairedmanwithabeardwalksovertomeetus,smilingbroadly,andI
recognizehimastheold-timerfromthelasttimewewerehere.
“Joe.”ChristiansmilesandreleasesmyhandtoshakeJoe’swarmly.
“KeephersafeforStephan.He’llbealongaroundeightornine.”
“Willdo,Mr.Grey.Ma’am,”hesays,noddingatme.“Yourcar’swaiting
downstairs,sir.Oh,andtheelevator’soutoforder;you’llneedtousethe
stairs.”
“Thankyou,Joe.”
Christiantakesmyhand,andweheadtotheemergencystairs.
“Goodthingforyouthisisonlythreefloors,inthoseheels,”hemutterstome
indisapproval.
Nokidding.
“Don’tyouliketheboots?”
“Ilikethemverymuch,Anastasia.”HisgazedarkensandIthinkhemight
saysomethingelse,buthestops.“Come.We’lltakeitslow.Idon’twantyou
fallingandbreakingyourneck.”
Wesitinsilenceasourdrivertakesustothegallery.Myanxietyhasreturned
fullforce,andIrealizethatourtimeinCharlieTangohasbeentheeyeofthe
storm.Christianisquietandbrooding…apprehensiveeven;ourlightermood
fromearlierhasdissipated.There’ssomuchIwanttosay,butthisjourneyis
tooshort.Christianstarespensivelyoutthewindow.
“Joséisjustafriend,”Imurmur.
Christianturnsandgazesatme,hiseyesdarkandguarded,givingnothing
away.Hismouth—oh,hismouthisdistracting,andunbidden.Irememberit
onme—everywhere.Myskinheats.Heshiftsinhisseatandfrowns.
“Thosebeautifuleyeslooktoolargeinyourface,Anastasia.Pleasetellme
you’lleat.”
“Yes,Christian,I’lleat,”Ianswerautomatically,aplatitude.
“Imeanit.”
“Doyounow?”Icannotkeepthedisdainoutofmyvoice.Honestly,the
audacityofthisman—thismanwhohasputmethroughhelloverthelastfew
days.No,that’swrong.
I’veputmyselfthroughhell.No.It’shim.Ishakemyhead,confused.
“Idon’twanttofightwithyou,Anastasia.Iwantyouback,andIwantyou
healthy,”
hesayssoftly.
What?Whatdoesthatmean?“Butnothing’schanged.”You’restillfifty
shades.
“Let’stalkonthewayback.We’rehere.”
Thecarpullsupinfrontofthegallery,andChristianclimbsout,leavingme
speechless.Heopensthecardoorforme,andIclamberout.
“Whydoyoudothat?”MyvoiceislouderthanIexpected.
“Dowhat?”Christianistakenaback.
“Saysomethinglikethatandthenjuststop.”
“Anastasia,we’rehere.Whereyouwanttobe.Let’sdothisandthentalk.I
don’tparticularlywantasceneinthestreet.”
Iflushandglancearound.He’sright.It’stoopublic.Ipressmylipstogether
asheglaresdownatme.
“Okay,”Imuttersulkily.Takingmyhand,heleadsmeintothebuilding.
Weareinaconvertedwarehouse—brickwalls,darkwoodfloors,white
ceilings,andwhitepipework.It’sairyandmodern,andthereareseveral
peoplewanderingacrossthegalleryfloor,sippingwineandadmiringJosé’s
work.Foramoment,mytroublesmeltawayasIgraspthatJoséhasrealized
hisdream.Waytogo,José!
“GoodeveningandwelcometoJoséRodriguez’sshow.”Ayoungwoman
dressedinblackwithveryshortbrownhair,brightredlipstick,andlarge
hoopedearringsgreetsus.
Sheglancesbrieflyatme,thenmuchlongerthanisstrictlynecessaryat
Christian,thenturnsbacktome,blinkingassheblushes.
Mybrowcreases.He’smine—orwas.Itryhardnottoscowlather.Asher
eyesregaintheirfocus,sheblinksagain.
“Oh,it’syou,Ana.We’llwantyourtakeonallthis,too.”Grinning,shehands
meabrochureanddirectsmetoatableladenwithdrinksandsnacks.
Howdoessheknowmyname?
“Youknowher?”Christianfrowns.
Ishakemyhead,equallypuzzled.
Heshrugs,distracted.“Whatwouldyouliketodrink?”
“I’llhaveaglassofwhitewine,thankyou.”
Hisbrowfurrows,butheholdshistongueandheadsfortheopenbar.
“Ana!”
Josécomesbarrellingthroughathrongofpeople.
Holycow!He’swearingasuit.Helooksgoodandhe’sbeamingatme.He
enfoldsmeinhisarms,huggingmehard.Andit’sallIcandonottoburstinto
tears.Myfriend,myonlyfriendwhileKateisaway.Tearspoolinmyeyes.
“Ana,I’msogladyoumadeit,”hewhispersinmyear,thenpausesand
abruptlyholdsmeatarm’slength,staringatme.
“What?”
“Heyareyouokay?Youlook,well,odd.Diosmio,haveyoulostweight?”
Iblinkbackmytears.“José,I’mfine.I’mjustsohappyforyou.”Crap—not
him,too.
“Congratulationsontheshow.”MyvoicewaversasIseehisconcernetched
onhisoh-so-familiarface,butIhavetoholdmyselftogether.
“Howdidyougethere?”heasks.
“Christianbroughtme,”Isay,suddenlyapprehensive.
“Oh.”José’sfacefallsandhereleasesme.“Whereishe?”Hisexpression
darkens.
“Overthere,fetchingdrinks.”InodinChristian’sdirectionandseehe’s
exchangingpleasantrieswithsomeonewaitinginline.Christianglancesup
whenIlookhiswayandoureyeslock.Andinthatbriefmoment,I’m
paralyzed,staringattheimpossiblyhandsomemanwhogazesatmewith
someunfathomableemotion.Hisgazehot,burningintome,andwe’relostfor
amomentstaringateachother.
Holycow…Thisbeautifulmanwantsmeback,anddeepdowninsideme
sweetjoyslowlyunfurlslikeamorninggloryintheearlydawn.
“Ana!”Josédistractsme,andI’mdraggedbacktothehereandnow.“Iamso
gladyoucame—listen,Ishouldwarnyou—”
Suddenly,MissVeryShortHairandRedLipstickcutshimoff.“José,the
journalistfromthePortlandPrintzisheretoseeyou.Comeon.”Shegivesme
apolitesmile.
“Howcoolisthis?Thefame.”Hegrins,andIcan’thelpbutgrinback—he’s
sohappy.
“Catchyoulater,Ana.”Hekissesmycheek,andIwatchhimstrollovertoa
youngwomanstandingbyatalllankyphotographer.
José’sphotographsareeverywhere,andinsomecases,blownupontohuge
canvases.
Therearebothmonochromesandcolours.There’sanetherealbeautytomany
ofthelandscapes.InonetakenoutnearthelakeatVancouver,it’searly
eveningandpinkcloudsarereflectedinthestillnessofthewater.Briefly,I’m
transportedbythetranquillityandthepeace.It’sstunning.
Christianjoinsme,andItakeadeepbreathandswallow,tryingtorecover
someofmyearlierequilibrium.Hehandsmemyglassofwhitewine.
“Doesitcomeuptoscratch?”Myvoicesoundsmorenormal.
Helooksquizzicallyatme.
“Thewine.”
“No.Rarelydoesatthesekindsofevents.Theboy’squitetalented,isn’the?”
Christianisadmiringthelakephoto.
“WhyelsedoyouthinkIaskedhimtotakeyourportrait?”Ican’thelpthe
prideinmyvoice.Hiseyesglideimpassivelyfromthephotographtome.
“ChristianGrey?”ThephotographerfromthePortlandPrintzapproaches
Christian.
“CanIhaveapicture,sir?”
“Sure.”Christianhideshisscowl.Istepback,buthegrabsmyhandandpulls
metohisside.Thephotographerlooksatbothofusandcan’thidehis
surprise.
“Mr.Grey,thankyou.”Hesnapsacoupleofphotos.“Miss…?”heasks.
“Steele,”Ireply.
“Thankyou,MissSteele.”Hescurriesoff.
“IlookedforpicturesofyouwithdatesontheInternet.Therearen’tany.
That’swhyKatethoughtyouweregay.”
Christian’smouthtwitcheswithasmile.“Thatexplainsyourinappropriate
question.
No,Idon’tdodates,Anastasia—onlywithyou.Butyouknowthat.”Hiseyes
burnwithsincerity.
“Soyounevertookyour”—Iglancearoundnervouslytochecknoonecan
overhearus—“subsout?”
“Sometimes.Notondates.Shopping,youknow.”Heshrugs,hiseyesnot
leavingmine.
Oh,sojustintheplayroom—hisRedRoomofPainandhisapartment.Idon’t
knowwhattofeelaboutthat.
“Justyou,Anastasia,”hewhispers.
Iblushandstaredownatmyfingers.Inhisownway,hedoescareaboutme.
“Yourfriendhereseemsmoreofalandscapeman,notportraits.Let’slook
round.”Heholdshishandouttome,andItakeit.
Wewanderpastafewmoreprints,andInoticeacouplenoddingatme,
smilingbroadlyasiftheyknowme.ItmustbebecauseI’mwithChristian,
butoneyoungmanisblatantlystaring.Odd.
Weturnthecorner,andIcanseewhyI’vebeengettingstrangelooks.
Hangingonthefarwallaresevenhugeportraits—ofme.
Istareblanklyatthem,stupefied,theblooddrainingfrommyface.Me:
pouting,laughing,scowling,serious,amused.Allinsupercloseup,allin
blackandwhite.
Holycrap!IrememberJosémessingwiththecameraonacoupleof
occasionswhenhewasvisitingandwhenI’dbeenoutwithhimasdriverand
photographer’sassistant.Hetooksnapshots,orsoIthought.Notthese
invasivecandid’s.
IglanceupatChristian,whoisstaring,transfixed,ateachofthepicturesin
turn.
“SeemsI’mnottheonlyone,”hemutterscryptically,hismouthsettlingintoa
hardline.Ithinkhe’sangry.Ohno.
“Excuseme,”hesays,pinningmewithhisbrightgreygazeforamoment.He
turnsandheadstothereceptiondesk.
What’shisproblemnow?Iwatchmesmerizedashetalksanimatedlywith
MissVeryShortHairandRedLipstick.Hefishesouthiswalletandproduces
hiscreditcard.
Shit.Hemusthaveboughtoneofthem.
“Hey.You’rethemuse.Thesephotographsareterrific.”Ayoungmanwitha
shockofbrightblondhairstartlesme.IfeelahandatmyelbowandChristian
isback.
“You’realuckyguy.”BlondShocksmirksatChristian,whogiveshimacold
stare.
“ThatIam,”hemuttersdarkly,ashepullsmeovertooneside.
“Didyoujustbuyoneofthese?”
“Oneofthese?”hesnorts,nottakinghiseyesoffthem.
“Youboughtmorethanone?”
Herollshiseyes.“Iboughtthemall,Anastasia.Idon’twantsomestranger
oglingyouintheprivacyoftheirhome.”
Myfirstinclinationistolaugh.“You’dratheritwasyou?”Iscoff.
Heglaresdownatme,caughtoffguardbymyaudacity,Ithink,buthe’s
tryingtohidehisamusement.
“Frankly,yes.”
“Pervert,”Imouthathimandbitemylowerliptopreventmysmile.
Hismouthdropsopen,andnowhisamusementisobvious.Hestrokeshis
chinthoughtfully.“Can’targuewiththatassessment,Anastasia.”Heshakes
hishead,andhiseyessoftenwithhumour.
“I’ddiscussitfurtherwithyou,butI’vesignedanNDA.”
Hesighs,gazingatme,andhiseyesdarken.“WhatI’dliketodotoyour
smartmouth,”
hemurmurs.
Igasp,knowingfullwellwhathemeans.“You’reveryrude.”Itrytosound
shockedandsucceed.Doeshehavenoboundaries?
Hesmirksatme,amused,andthenhefrowns.
“Youlookveryrelaxedinthesephotographs,Anastasia.Idon’tseeyoulike
thatveryoften.”
What?Whoa!Changeofsubject—talkaboutnonsequitur—fromplayfulto
serious.
Iflushandglancedownatmyfingers.Hetiltsmyheadback,andIinhale
sharplyatthecontactwithhislongfingers.
“Iwantyouthatrelaxedwithme,”hewhispers.Alltraceofhumourhasgone.
Deepinsidemethatjoystirsagain.Buthowcanthisbe?Wehaveissues.
“Youhavetostopintimidatingmeifyouwantthat,”Isnap.
“Youhavetolearntocommunicateandtellmehowyoufeel,”hesnapsback,
eyesblazing.
Itakeadeepbreath.“Christian,youwantedmeasasubmissive.That’swhere
theproblemlies.It’sinthedefinitionofasubmissive—youe-mailedittome
once.”Ipause,tryingtorecallthewording.“Ithinkthesynonymswere,andI
quote,‘compliant,pliant,amenable,passive,tractable,resigned,patient,
docile,tame,subdued.’Iwasn’tsupposedtolookatyou.Nottalktoyou
unlessyougavemepermissiontodoso.Whatdoyouexpect?”
Ihissathim.
Heblinks,andhisfrowndeepensasIcontinue.
“It’sveryconfusingbeingwithyou.Youdon’twantmetodefyyou,butthen
youlikemy‘smartmouth.’Youwantobedience,exceptwhenyoudon’t,so
youcanpunishme.Ijustdon’tknowwhichwayisupwhenI’mwithyou.”
Henarrowshiseyes.“Goodpointwellmade,asusual,MissSteele.”His
voiceisfrigid.“Come,let’sgoeat.”
“We’veonlybeenhereforhalfanhour.”
“You’veseenthephotos;you’vespokentotheboy.”
“HisnameisJosé.”
“You’vespokentoJosé—themanwho,thelasttimeImethim,wastryingto
pushhistongueintoyourreluctantmouthwhileyouweredrunkandill,”he
snarls.
“He’sneverhitme,”Ispitathim.
Christianscowlsatme,furyemanatingfromeverypore.“That’salowblow,
Anastasia,”hewhispersmenacingly.
Iflush,andChristianrunshishandsthroughhishair,bristlingwithbarely
containedanger.Iglarebackathim.
“I’mtakingyouforsomethingtoeat.You’refadingawayinfrontofme.Find
theboy,saygood-bye.”
“Please,canwestaylonger?”
“No.Go.Now.Saygood-bye.”
Iglareathim,mybloodboiling.Mr.DamnedControlFreak.Angryisgood.
Angryisbetterthantearful.
IdragmygazeawayfromhimandscantheroomforJosé.He’stalkingtoa
groupofyoungwomen.IstalkofftowardhimandawayfromFifty.Just
becausehebroughtmehere,Ihavetodoashesays?Whothehelldoeshe
thinkheis?
ThegirlsarehangingonJosé’severyword.OneofthemgaspsasIapproach,
nodoubtrecognizingmefromtheportraits.
“José.”
“Ana.Excuseme,girls.”Joségrinsatthemandputshisarmaroundme,and
onsomelevelI’mamused—Joséallsmooth,impressingtheladies.
“Youlookmad,”hesays.
“Ihavetogo,”Imuttermulishly.
“Youjustgothere.”
“IknowbutChristianneedstogetback.Thepicturesarefantastic,José—
you’reverytalented.”
Hebeams.“Itwassocoolseeingyou.”
Josesweepsmeintoabigbearhug,spinningmesoIcanseeChristianacross
thegallery.He’sscowling,andIrealizeit’sbecauseI’minJosé’sarms.Soin
averycalculatingmove,IwrapmyarmsaroundJosé’sneck.IthinkChristian
isgoingtoexpire.Hisglaredarkenstosomethingquitesinister,andslowlyhe
makeshiswaytowardus.
“Thanksforthewarningabouttheportraitsofme,”Imumble.
“Shit.Sorry,Ana.Ishouldhavetoldyou.D’youlikethem?”
“Um…Idon’tknow,”Ianswertruthfully,momentarilyknockedoffbalance
byhisquestion.
“Well,they’reallsold,sosomebodylikesthem.Howcoolisthat?You’rea
postergirl.”HehugsmetighterstillasChristianreachesus,gloweringatme
now,thoughfortunatelyJosédoesn’tsee.
Joséreleasesme.“Don’tbeastranger,Ana.Oh,Mr.Grey,goodevening.”
“Mr.Rodriguez,veryimpressive.”Christiansoundsicilypolite.“I’msorry
wecan’tstaylonger,butweneedtoheadbacktoSeattle.Anastasia?”He
subtlystressesweandtakesmyhandashedoesso.
“Bye,José.Congratulationsagain.”Igivehimaquickkissonthecheek,and
beforeIknowitChristianisdraggingmeoutofthebuilding.Iknowhe’s
boilingwithsilentwrath,butsoamI.
Helooksquicklyupanddownthestreetthenheadsleftandsuddenlysweeps
meintoasidealley,abruptlypushingmeupagainstawall.Hegrabsmyface
betweenhishands,forcingmetolookupintohisardentdeterminedeyes.
Igasp,andhismouthswoopsdown.He’skissingme,violently.Brieflyour
teethclash,thenhistongueisinmymouth.
DesireexplodesliketheFourthofJulythroughoutmybody,andI’mkissing
himback,matchinghisfervour,myhandsknottinginhishair,pullingit,hard.
Hegroans,alowsexysoundinthebackofhisthroatthatreverberates
throughme,andhishandmovesdownmybodytothetopofmythigh,his
fingersdiggingintomyfleshthroughtheplumdress.
Ipouralltheangstandheartbreakofthelastfewdaysintoourkiss,binding
himtome,andithitsme—inthismomentofblindingpassion—he’sdoing
thesame,hefeelsthesame.
Hebreaksoffthekiss,panting.Hiseyesareluminouswithdesire,firingthe
alreadyheatedbloodthatispoundingthroughmybody.Mymouthisslackas
Itrytodragpreciousairintomylungs.
“You.Are.Mine,”hesnarls,emphasizingeachword.Hepushesawayfrom
meandbends,handsonhiskneesasifhe’srunamarathon.“Fortheloveof
God,Ana.”
Ileanagainstthewall,panting,tryingtocontroltheriotousreactioninmy
body,tryingtofindmyequilibriumagain.
“I’msorry,”Iwhisperoncemybreathhasreturned.
“Youshouldbe.Iknowwhatyouweredoing.Doyouwantthephotographer,
Anastasia?Heobviouslyhasfeelingsforyou.”
Iflushandshakemyhead.
“No.He’sjustafriend.”
“Ihavespentallmyadultlifetryingtoavoidanyextremeemotion.Yetyou
…youbringoutfeelingsinmethatarecompletelyalien.It’svery…”He
frowns,graspingfortheword.“Unsettling.
“Ilikecontrol,Ana,andaroundyouthatjust”—hestands,hisgazeintense—
“evaporates.”Hewaveshishandvaguely,thenrunsitthroughhishairand
takesadeepbreath.Heclaspsmyhand.
“Come,weneedtotalk,andyouneedtoeat.”
Heleadsmeintoasmall,intimaterestaurant.
“Thisplacewillhavetodo,”Christiangrumbles.“Wedon’thavemuchtime.”
Therestaurantlooksfinetome.Woodenchairs,linentablecloths,andwalls
thesamecolourasChristian’splayroom—deepbloodred—withsmallgilt
mirrorsrandomlyplaced,whitecandles,andsmallvasesofwhiteroses.Ella
Fitzgeraldcroonssoftlyinthebackgroundaboutthisthingcalledlove.It’s
veryromantic.
Thewaiterleadsustoatablefortwoinasmallalcove,andIsit,apprehensive
andwonderingwhathe’sgoingtosay.
“Wedon’thavelong,”Christiansaystothewaiteraswesit.“Sowe’lleach
havesirloinsteakcookedmedium,béarnaisesauceifyouhaveit,fries,and
greenvegetables,whateverthechefhas;andbringmethewinelist.”
“Certainly,sir.”Thewaiter,takenabackbyChristian’scool,calmefficiency,
scuttlesoff.ChristianplaceshisBlackberryonthetable.Jeez,don’tIgeta
choice?
“AndifIdon’tlikesteak?”
Hesighs.“Don’tstart,Anastasia.”
“Iamnotachild,Christian.”
“Well,stopactinglikeone.”
It’sasifhe’sslappedme.Iblinkathim.Sothisishowitwillbe,anagitated,
fraughtconversation,albeitinaveryromanticsettingbutcertainlynohearts
andflowers.
“I’machildbecauseIdon’tlikesteak?”Imuttertryingtoconcealmyhurt.
“Fordeliberatelymakingmejealous.It’sachildishthingtodo.Haveyouno
regardforyourfriend’sfeelings,leadinghimonlikethat?”Christianpresses
hislipstogetherinathinlineandscowlsasthewaiterreturnswiththewine
list.
Iblush—Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.PoorJosé—Icertainlydon’twantto
encouragehim.
Suddenly,I’mmortified.Christianhasapoint;itwasathoughtlessthingto
do.Heglancesatthewinelist.
“Wouldyouliketochoosethewine?”heasks,raisinghiseyebrowsatme
expectantly,arrogancepersonified.HeknowsIknownothingaboutwine.
“Youchoose,”Ianswer,sullenbutchastened.
“TwoglassesoftheBarossaValleyShiraz,please.”
“Er…weonlysellthatwinebythebottle,sir.”
“Abottlethen,”Christiansnaps.
“Sir.”Heretreats,subdued,andIdon’tblamehim.IfrownatFifty.What’s
eatinghim?
Oh,meprobably,andsomewhereinthedepthsofmypsyche,myinner
goddessrisessleepily,stretches,andsmiles.She’sbeenasleepforawhile.
“You’reverygrumpy.”
Hegazesatmeimpassively.“Iwonderwhythatis?”
“Well,it’sgoodtosettherighttoneforanintimateandhonestdiscussion
aboutthefuture,wouldn’tyousay?”Ismileathimsweetly.
Hismouthpressesintoahardline,butthen,almostreluctantly,hislipslift,
andIknowhe’stryingtostiflehissmile.
“I’msorry,”hesays.
“Apologyaccepted,andI’mpleasedtoinformyouIhaven’tdecidedto
becomeavegetariansincewelastate.”
“Sincethatwasthelasttimeyouate,Ithinkthat’samootpoint.”
“There’sthatwordagain,moot.”
“Moot,”hemouthsandhiseyessoftenwithhumour.Herunshishand
throughhishair,andhe’sseriousagain.“Ana,thelasttimewespoke,youleft
me.I’malittlenervous.I’vetoldyouIwantyouback,andyou’vesaid…
nothing.”Hisgazeisintenseandexpectantwhilehiscandouristotally
disarming.WhatthehelldoIsaytothis?
“I’vemissedyou…reallymissedyou,Christian.Thepastfewdayshave
been…
difficult.”Iswallow,andalumpinmythroatswellsasIrecallmydesperate
anguishsinceIlefthim.
Thislastweekhasbeentheworstinmylife,thepainalmostindescribable.
Nothinghascomeclose.Butrealityhitshome,windingme.
“Nothing’schanged.Ican’tbewhatyouwantmetobe.”Isqueezethewords
outpastthelumpinmythroat.
“YouarewhatIwantyoutobe,”hesays,hissoftvoiceemphatic.
“No,Christian,I’mnot.”
“You’reupsetbecauseofwhathappenedlasttime.Ibehavedstupidly,and
you…Sodidyou.Whydidn’tyousafeword,Anastasia?”Histonechanges,
becomingaccusatory.
What?Whoa—changeofdirection.Iflush,blinkingathim.
“Answerme.”
“Idon’tknow.Iwasoverwhelmed.Iwastryingtobewhatyouwantedmeto
be,tryingtodealwiththepain,anditwentoutofmymind.Youknow…I
forgot,”Iwhisperashamed,andIshrugapologetically.
Jeez,perhapswecouldhaveavoidedallthisheartache.
“Youforgot!”hegaspswithhorror,grabbingthesidesofthetableandglaring
atme.
Iwitherunderhisstare.
Shit!He’sfuriousagain.Myinnergoddessglaresatme,too.See,youbrought
allthisonyourself!
“HowcanItrustyou?”hesays,hisvoicelow.“Ever?”
Thewaiterarriveswithourwineaswesitstaringateachother,blueeyesto
grey.Bothofusfilledwithunspokenrecriminations,whilethewaiter
removesthecorkwithanun-necessaryflourishandpoursalittlewineinto
Christian’sglass.AutomaticallyChristianreachesoutandtakesasip.
“That’sfine.”Hisvoiceiscurt.
Gingerlythewaiterfillsourglasses,placingthebottleonthetablebefore
beatingahastyretreat.Christianhasnottakenhiseyesoffmethewholetime.
Iamthefirsttocrack,breakingeyecontact,pickingupmyglassandtakinga
largegulp.Ibarelytasteit.
“I’msorry,”Iwhisper,suddenlyfeelingstupid.IleftbecauseIthoughtwe
wereincompatible,buthe’ssayingIcouldhavestoppedhim?
“Sorryforwhat?”hesaysalarmed.
“Notusingthesafeword.”
Hecloseshiseyes,asifinrelief.
“Wemighthaveavoidedallthissuffering,”hemutters.
“Youlookfine.”Morethanfine.Youlooklikeyou.
“Appearancescanbedeceptive,”hesaysquietly.“I’manythingbutfine.I
feellikethesunhassetandnotrisenforfivedays,Ana.I’minperpetual
nighthere.”
I’mwindedbyhisadmission.Ohmy,likeme.
“Yousaidyou’dneverleave,yetthegoinggetstoughandyou’reoutthe
door.”
“WhendidIsayI’dneverleave?”
“Inyoursleep.ItwasthemostcomfortingthingI’dheardinsolong,
Anastasia.Itmademerelax.”
MyheartconstrictsandIreachformywine.
“Yousaidyoulovedme,”hewhispers.“Isthatnowinthepasttense?”His
voiceislow,lacedwithanxiety.
“No,Christian,it’snot.”
Hegazesatme,andhelookssovulnerableasheexhales.“Good,”he
murmurs.
I’mshockedbyhisadmission.He’shadachangeofheart.WhenItoldhimI
lovedhimbefore,hewashorrified.Thewaiterisback.Brisklyheplacesour
platesinfrontofusandscuttlesaway.
Holyhell.Food.
“Eat,”Christiancommands.
DeepdownIknowI’mhungry,butrightnow,mystomachisinknots.Sitting
acrossfromtheonlymanIhaveeverlovedanddebatingouruncertainfuture
doesnotpromoteahealthyappetite.Ilookdubiouslyatmyfood.
“SohelpmeGod,Anastasia,ifyoudon’teat,Iwilltakeyouacrossmyknee
hereinthisrestaurant,anditwillhavenothingtodowithmysexual
gratification.Eat!”
Jeez,keepyourhairon,Grey.Mysubconsciousstaresatmeoverherhalf-
moonspecs.
SheiswholeheartedlyinagreementwithFiftyShades.
“Okay,I’lleat.Stowyourtwitchingpalm,please.”
Hedoesn’tsmilebutcontinuestoglareatme.ReluctantlyIliftmyknifeand
forkandsliceintomysteak.Oh,it’smouth-wateringlygood.Iamhungry,
reallyhungry.Ichewandhevisiblyrelaxes.
Weeatoursupperinsilence.Themusic’schanged.Asoft-voicedwoman
singsinthebackground,herwordsechoingmythoughts.
IglanceatFifty.He’seatingandwatchingme.Hunger,longing,anxiety
combinedinonehotlook.
“Doyouknowwho’ssinging?”Itryforsomenormalconversation.
Christianpausesandlistens.“No…butshe’sgood,whoeversheis.”
“Ilikeher,too.”
Finallyhesmileshisprivateenigmaticsmile.What’sheplanning?
“What?”Iask.
Heshakeshishead.“Eatup,”hesaysmildly.
Ihaveeatenhalfthefoodonmyplate.Icannoteatanymore.HowcanI
negotiatethis?
“Ican’tmanageanymore.HaveIeatenenoughforSir?”
Hestaresatmeimpassively,notanswering,thenglancesathiswatch.
“Iamreallyfull,”Iadd,takingasipofthedeliciouswine.
“Wehavetogoshortly.Taylor’shere,andyouhavetobeupforworkinthe
morning.”
“Sodoyou.”
“Ifunctiononalotlesssleepthanyoudo,Anastasia.Atleastyou’veeaten
something.”
“Aren’twegoingbackviaCharlieTango?”
“No,IthoughtImighthaveadrink.Taylorwillcollectus.Besides,thiswayI
haveyouinthecaralltomyselfforafewhours,atleast.Whatcanwedobut
talk?”
Oh,that’shisplan.
Christiansummonsthewaitertoaskforthecheck,thenpicksuphis
Blackberryandmakesacall.
“We’reatLePicotin,SouthWestThirdAvenue.”Hehangsup.
Jeez,he’scurtoverthephone.
“You’reverybrusquewithTaylor,infact,withmostpeople.”
“Ijustgettothepointquickly,Anastasia.”
“Youhaven’tgottentothepointthisevening.Nothing’schanged,Christian.”
“Ihaveapropositionforyou.”
“Thisstartedwithaproposition.”
“Adifferentproposition.”
Thewaiterreturns,andChristianhandsoverhiscreditcardwithoutchecking
thebill.
Hegazesatmespeculativelywhilethewaiterswipeshiscard.Christian’s
phonebuzzesonce,andhepeersatit.
Hehasaproposition?Whatnow?Acoupleofscenariosrunthroughmy
mind:kidnap,workingforhim.No,nothingmakessense.Christianfinishes
paying.
“Come.Taylor’soutside.”
Westandandhetakesmyhand.
“Idon’twanttoloseyou,Anastasia.”Hekissesmyknucklestenderly,andthe
touchofhislipsonmyskinresonatesthroughoutmybody.
OutsidetheAudiiswaiting.Christianopensmydoor.Climbingin,Isinkinto
theplushleather.Heheadstothedriver’sside,Taylorstepsoutofthecarand
theytalkbriefly.
Thisisn’ttheirusualprotocol.I’mcurious.Whataretheytalkingabout?
Momentslater,theybothclimbin,andIglanceatChristianwho’swearing
hisimpassivefaceashestaresahead.
Iallowmyselfabriefmomenttoexaminehisgodlikeprofile:straightnose,
sculpturedfulllips,hairfallingdeliciouslyoverhisforehead.Thisdivineman
issurelynotmeantforme.Softmusicsuddenlyfillstherearofthecar,an
orchestralpiecethatIdon’tknow,andTaylorpullsintothelighttraffic,
headingfortheI-5andSeattle.
Christianshiftstofaceme.“AsIwassaying,Anastasia,Ihaveaproposition
foryou.”
IglancenervouslyatTaylor.
“Taylorcan’thearyou,”Christianreassuresme.
“How?”
“Taylor,”Christiancalls.Taylordoesn’trespond.Hecallsagain,stillno
response.
Christianleansoverandtapshisshoulder.TaylorremovesanearbudIhadn’t
noticed.
“Yes,sir?”
“Thankyou,Taylor.It’sokay;resumeyourlistening.”
“Sir.”
“Happynow?He’slisteningtohisiPod.Puccini.Forgethe’shere.Ido.”
“Didyoudeliberatelyaskhimtodothat?”
“Yes.”
Oh.“Okay,yourproposition?”
Christianlookssuddenlydeterminedandbusiness-like.Holyshit.We’re
negotiatingadeal.Ilistenattentively.
“Letmeaskyousomethingfirst.Doyouwantaregularvanillarelationship
withnokinkyfuckeryatall?”
Mymouthdropsopen.“Kinkyfuckery?”Isqueak.
“Kinkyfuckery.”
“Ican’tbelieveyousaidthat.”IglancenervouslyatTaylor.
“Well,Idid.Answerme,”hesayscalmly.
Iflush.Myinnergoddessisdownonbendedkneewithherhandsclaspedin
supplicationbeggingme.
“Ilikeyourkinkyfuckery,”Iwhisper.
“That’swhatIthought.Sowhatdon’tyoulike?”
Notbeingabletotouchyou.Youenjoyingmypain,thebiteofthebelt…
“Thethreatofcruelandunusualpunishment.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Well,youhaveallthosecanesandwhipsandstuffinyourplayroom,and
theyfrightenthelivingdaylightsoutofme.Idon’twantyoutousethemon
me.”
“Okay,sonowhipsorcanes—orbelts,forthatmatter,”hesayssardonically.
Igazeathimpuzzled.“Areyouattemptingtoredefinethehardlimits?”
“Notassuch,I’mjusttryingtounderstandyou,getaclearerpictureofwhat
youdoanddon’tlike.”
“Fundamentally,Christian,it’syourjoyininflictingpainonmethat’s
difficultformetohandle.Andtheideathatyou’lldoitbecauseIhave
crossedsomearbitraryline.”
“Butit’snotarbitrary;therulesarewrittendown.”
“Idon’twantasetofrules.”
“Noneatall?”
“Norules.”Ishakemyhead,butmyheartisinmymouth.Whereishegoing
withthis?
“Butyoudon’tmindifIspankyou?”
“Spankmewithwhat?”
“This.”Heholdsuphishand.
Isquirmuncomfortably.“No,notreally.Especiallywiththosesilverballs…”
Thankheavensit’sdark,myfaceisflamingandmyvoicetrailsoffasIrecall
thatnight.Yeah…
I’ddothatagain.
Hesmirksatme.“Yes,thatwasfun.”
“Morethanfun,”Imutter.
“Soyoucandealwithsomepain.”
Ishrug.“Yes,Isuppose.”Oh,whereishegoingwiththis?Myanxietylevel
hasshotupseveralmagnitudesontheRichterscale.
Hestrokeshischin,deepinthought.“Anastasia,Iwanttostartagain.Dothe
vanillathingandthenmaybe,onceyoutrustmemoreandItrustyoutobe
honestandtocommunicatewithme,wecouldmoveonanddosomeofthe
thingsthatIliketodo.”
Istareathim,stunned,withnothoughtsinmyheadatall—likeacomputer
crash.Hegazesatmeanxiously,butIcan’tseehimclearly,aswe’re
shroudedintheOregondarkness.Itoccurstome,finally,thisisit.
Hewantsthelight,butcanIaskhimtodothisforme?Anddon’tIlikethe
dark?Somedark,sometimes.MemoriesoftheThomasTallisnightdrift
invitinglythroughmymind.
“Butwhataboutpunishments?”
“Nopunishments.”Heshakeshishead.“None.”
“Andtherules?”
“Norules.”
“Noneatall?Butyouhaveneeds.”
“Ineedyoumore,Anastasia.Theselastfewdayshavebeenpurgatory.Allmy
instinctstellmetoletyougo,tellmeIdon’tdeserveyou.
“Thosephotostheboytook…Icanseehowheseesyou.Youlookso
untroubledandbeautiful,notthatyou’renotbeautifulnow,buthereyousit.I
seeyourpain.It’shardknowingthatI’mtheonewhohasmadeyoufeelthis
way.
“ButI’maselfishman.I’vewantedyousinceyoufellintomyoffice.Youare
exquisite,honest,warm,strong,witty,beguilinglyinnocent;thelistisendless.
Iaminaweofyou.Iwantyou,andthethoughtofanyoneelsehavingyouis
likeaknifetwistinginmydarksoul.”
Mymouthgoesdry.Holyshit.Mysubconsciousnodswithsatisfaction.Ifthat
isn’tadeclarationoflove,Idon’tknowwhatis.Andthewordstumbleoutof
me—adambreached.
“Christian,whydoyouthinkyouhaveadarksoul?Iwouldneversaythat.
Sadmaybe,butyou’reagoodman.Icanseethat…you’regenerous,you’re
kind,andyou’veneverliedtome.AndIhaven’ttriedveryhard.
“LastSaturdaywassuchashocktomysystem.Itwasmywake-upcall.I
realizedthatyou’dbeeneasyonmeandthatIcouldn’tbethepersonyou
wantedmetobe.Then,afterIleft,itdawnedonmethatthephysicalpainyou
inflictedwasnotasbadasthepainoflosingyou.Idowanttopleaseyou,but
it’shard.”
“Youpleasemeallthetime,”hewhispers.“HowoftendoIhavetotellyou
that?”
“Ineverknowwhatyou’rethinking.Sometimesyou’resoclosedoff…like
anislandstate.Youintimidateme.That’swhyIkeepquiet.Idon’tknow
whichwayyourmoodisgoingtogo.Itswingsfromnorthtosouthandback
againinananosecond.It’sconfusingandyouwon’tletmetouchyou,andI
wanttosomuchtoshowyouhowmuchIloveyou.”
Heblinksatmeinthedarkness,warilyIthink,andIcanresisthimnolonger.
Iunbucklemyseatbeltandscrambleintohislap,takinghimbysurprise,and
takehisheadinmyhands.
“Iloveyou,ChristianGrey.Andyou’repreparedtodoallthisforme.I’mthe
onewhoisundeserving,andI’mjustsorrythatIcan’tdoallthosethingsfor
you.Maybewithtime…Idon’tknow…butyes,Iacceptyourproposition.
WheredoIsign?”
Hesnakeshisarmsaroundmeandcrushesmetohim.
“Oh,Ana,”hebreathesasheburieshisnoseinmyhair.
Wesit,ourarmswrappedaroundeachother,listeningtothemusic—a
soothingpianopiece—mirroringtheemotionsinthecar,thesweettranquil
calmafterthestorm.Isnuggleintohisarms,restingmyheadinthecrookof
hisneck.Hegentlystrokesmyback.
“Touchingisahardlimitforme,Anastasia,”hewhispers.
“Iknow.IwishIunderstoodwhy.”
Afterawhile,hesighs,andinasoftvoicehesays,“Ihadahorrific
childhood.Oneofthecrackwhore’spimps…”Hisvoicetrailsoff,andhis
bodytensesasherecallssomeunimaginablehorror.“Icanrememberthat,”
hewhispers,shuddering.
Abruptly,myheartconstrictsasIremembertheburnscarsmarringhisskin.
Oh,Christian.Itightenmyarmsaroundhisneck.
“Wassheabusive?Yourmother?”Myvoiceislowandsoftwithunshedtears.
“NotthatIremember.Shewasneglectful.Shedidn’tprotectmefromher
pimp.”
Hesnorts.“Ithinkitwasmewholookedafterher.Whenshefinallykilled
herself,ittookfourdaysforsomeonetoraisethealarmandfindus…I
rememberthat.”
Icannotcontainmygaspofhorror.Holymotherfuck.Bilerisesinmythroat.
“That’sprettyfucked-up,”Iwhisper.
“Fiftyshades,”hemurmurs.
Iturnmyheadandpressmylipsagainsthisneck,seekingandofferingsolace
asIimagineasmall,dirty,grey-eyedboylostandlonelybesidethebodyof
hisdeadmother.
Oh,Christian.Ibreatheinhisscent.Hesmellsheavenly,myfavourite
fragranceintheentireworld.Hetightenshisarmsaroundmeandkissesmy
hair,andIsitwrappedinhisembraceasTaylorspeedsintothenight.
WhenIwake,we’redrivingthroughSeattle.
“Hey,”Christiansayssoftly.
“Sorry,”ImurmurasIsitup,blinkingandstretching.Iamstillinhisarms,
onhislap.
“Icouldwatchyousleepforever,Ana.”
“DidIsayanything?”
“No.We’renearlyatyourplace.”
Oh?“We’renotgoingtoyours?”
“No.”
Isitupandgazeathim.“Whynot?”
“Becauseyouhaveworktomorrow.”
“Oh.”Ipout.
Hesmirksatme.“Why,didyouhavesomethinginmind?”
Iflush.“Well,maybe.”
Hechuckles.“Anastasia,Iamnotgoingtotouchyouagain,notuntilyoubeg
meto.”
“What!”
“Sothatyou’llstartcommunicatingwithme.Nexttimewemakelove,you’re
goingtohavetotellmeexactlywhatyouwantinfinedetail.”
“Oh.”HeshiftsmeoffhislapasTaylorpullsupoutsidemyapartment.
Christianclimbsoutandholdsthecardooropenforme.
“Ihavesomethingforyou.”Hemovestothebackofthecar,opensthetrunk,
andpullsoutalargegift-wrappedbox.Whatthehellisthis?
“Openitwhenyougetinside.”
“You’renotcomingin?”
“No,Anastasia.”
“SowhenwillIseeyou?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Mybosswantsmetogoforadrinkwithhimtomorrow.”
Christian’sfacehardens.“Doeshe,now?”Hisvoiceislacedwithlatent
menace.
“Tocelebratemyfirstweek,”Iaddquickly.
“Where?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Icouldpickyouupfromthere.”
“Okay…I’lle-mailortextyou.”
“Good.”
HewalksmetothelobbydoorandwaitswhileIdigmykeysoutofmy
purse.AsIunlockthedoor,heleansforwardandcupsmychin,tiltingmy
headback.Hismouthhoversovermine,andclosinghiseyes,herunsatrail
ofkissesfromthecornerofmyeyetothecornerofmymouth.
Asmallmoanescapesmymouthasmyinsidesmeltandunfurl.
“Untiltomorrow,”hebreathes.
“Goodnight,Christian,”Iwhisper,andIheartheneedinmyvoice.
Hesmiles.
“Inyougo,”heorders,andIwalkthroughthelobbycarryingmymysterious
parcel.
“Laters,baby,”hecalls,thenturnsandwithhiseasygrace,headsbacktothe
car.
Onceintheapartment,IopenthegiftboxandfindmyMacBookProlaptop,
theBlackberry,andanotherrectangularbox.Whatisthis?Iunwrapthesilver
paper.Insideisablack,slim,leathercase.
Openingthecase,IfindaniPad.Holyshit…aniPad.Awhitecardisresting
onthescreenwithamessagewritteninChristian’shandwriting:Holycow.I
haveaChristianGreymix-tapeintheguiseofahigh-endiPad.Ishakemy
headindisapprovalbecauseoftheexpense,butdeepdownIloveit.Jackat
theofficehasone,soIknowhowtheywork.
Iswitchitonandgaspasthewallpaperimageappears:asmallmodelglider.
Ohmy.
It’stheBlanikL23Igavehim,mountedonaglassstandandsittingonwhatI
thinkisChristian’sdeskathisoffice.Igapeatit.
Hebuiltit!Hereallydidbuildit.Iremembernowhementioneditinthenote
withtheflowers.I’mreeling,andIknowinthatinstantthathe’sputagreat
dealofthoughtintothisgift.
Islidethearrowatthebottomofthescreentounlockitandgaspagain.The
backgroundphotographisofChristianandmeatmygraduationinthe
marquee.It’stheonethatappearedintheSeattleTimes.Christianlooksso
handsomeandIcan’thelpmyface-splittinggrin,asmyinnergoddesscurls
uphuggingherselfonherchaiselongue—Yes,andhe’smine!
Withaswipeofmyfinger,theiconsshift,andseveralnewonesappearonthe
nextscreen.AKindleapp,iBooks,Words—whateverthatis.
Holyshit!TheBritishLibrary?Itouchtheiconandamenuappears:
Historicalcollection.Scrollingdown,Iselectnovelsofthe18thand19th
century.Anothermenu.Itaponatitle:TheAmericanbyHenryJames.Anew
windowopens,offeringmeascannedcopyofthebooktoread.Holycrap—
it’sanearlyedition,publishedin1879,andit’sonmyiPad!He’sboughtme
theBritishLibraryatatouchofabutton.
Iexitquickly,knowingthatIcouldbelostinthisappforaneternity.Inotice
a“goodfood”appthatmakesmerollmyeyesandsmileatthesametime,a
newsapp,aweatherapp,buthisnotementionedmusic.Igobacktothemain
screen,hittheiPodiconandaplaylistappears.Iscrollthroughthesongs,and
thelistmakesmesmile.ThomasTallis—
I’mnotgoingtoforgetthatinahurry.Iheardittwice,afterall,whilehe
floggedandfuckedme.“Witchcraft.”Mygringetswider—dancingroundthe
greatroom.TheBachMarcellopiece—ohno,that’swaytoosadformy
moodrightnow.Hmm.JeffBuckley—yeah,I’veheardofhim.SnowPatrol
—myfavouriteband—andasongcalled“PrinciplesofLust”byEnigma.
HowChristian.Ismirk.Anothercalled“Possession”…ohyes,veryFifty
Shades.
AndafewmoreIhaveneverheard.
Selectingasongthatcatchesmyeye,Ipressplay.It’scalled“Try”byNellie
Furtado.
Shestartstosing,andhervoiceisasilkenscarfwrappingaroundme,
envelopingme.Iliedownonmybed.
DoesthismeanChristian’sgoingtotry?Trythisnewrelationship?Idrinkin
thelyrics,staringattheceiling,tryingtounderstandhisturnaround.He
missedme.Imissedhim.Hemusthavesomefeelingsforme.Hemust.This
iPad,thesesongs,theseapps—hecares.Hereallycares.Myheartswellswith
hope.
Thesongendsandtearsspringtomyeyes.Iquicklyscrolltoanother—“The
Scientist”
byColdplay—oneofKate’sfavouritebands.Iknowthetrack,butI’venever
reallylistenedtothelyricsbefore.Iclosemyeyesandletthewordswash
overandthroughme.
Mytearsstarttoflow.Ican’tstemthem.Ifthisisn’tanapology,whatisit?
Oh,Christian.Oristhisaninvitation?Willheanswermyquestions?AmI
readingtoomuchintothis?
Iamprobablyreadingtoomuchintothis.Mysubconsciousnodsatme,trying
tohideherpity.Idashmytearsaway.Ihavetoe-mailhimtothankhim.I
leapoffmybedtofetchthemeanmachine.
ColdplaycontinuesasIsitcross-leggedonmybed.TheMacpowersupandI
login.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:IPAD
Date:June9,201123:56
To:ChristianGrey
You’vemademecryagain.
IlovetheiPad.
Ilovethesongs.
IlovetheBritishLibraryApp.
Iloveyou.
Thankyou.
Goodnight.
Anaxx
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:iPad
Date:June10,201100:03
To:AnastasiaSteele
I’mgladyoulikeit.Iboughtoneformyself.
Now,ifIwerethere,Iwouldkissawayyourtears.
ButI’mnot—sogotosleep.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Hisresponsemakesmesmile,stillsobossy,stillsoChristian.Willthat
change,too?AndIrealizeinthatmomentthatIhopenot.Ilikehimlikethis
—commanding—aslongasIcanstanduptohimwithoutfearofpunishment.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Mr.Grumpy
Date:June10,201100:07
To:ChristianGrey
Yousoundyourusualbossyandpossiblytense,possiblygrumpyself,Mr.
Grey.
Iknowsomethingthatcouldeasethat.Butthen,you’renothere—you
wouldn’tletmestay,andyouexpectmetobeg…
Dreamon,Sir.
Anaxx
PS:IalsonotethatyouincludedtheStalker’sAnthem,“EveryBreathYou
Take.”Idoenjoyyoursenseofhumour,butdoesDr.Flynnknow?
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Zen-LikeCalm
Date:June10,201100.10
To:AnastasiaSteele
MyDearestMissSteele
Spankingoccursinvanillarelationships,too,youknow.Usuallyconsensually
andinasexualcontext…butIammorethanhappytomakeanexception.
You’llberelievedtoknowthatDr.Flynnalsoenjoysmysenseofhumour.
Now,pleasegotosleepasyouwon’tgetmuchtomorrow.
Incidentally—youwillbeg,trustme.AndIlookforwardtoit.
ChristianGrey
TenseCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Goodnight,SweetDreams
Date:June10,201100:12
To:ChristianGrey
Well,sinceyouasksonicely,andIlikeyourdeliciousthreat,Ishallcurlup
withtheiPadthatyouhavesokindlygivenmeandfallasleepbrowsinginthe
BritishLibrary,listeningtothemusicthatsaysitforyou.
Axxx
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Onemorerequest
Date:June10,201100:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
Dreamofme.
x
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Dreamofyou,ChristianGrey?Always.
Ichangequicklyintomypyjamas,brushmyteeth,andslipintobed.Putting
myearbudsin,IpulltheflattenedCharlieTangoballoonfromunderneath
mypillowandhugittome.
Iambrimmingwithjoy,astupid,widemouthedgrinonmyface.Whata
differenceadaycanmake.HowamIevergoingtosleep?
JoséGonzalezstartstosingasoothingmelodywithahypnoticguitarriff,and
Idriftslowlyintosleep,marvellinghowtheworldhasrighteditselfinone
eveningandwonderingidlyifIshouldmakeaplaylistforChristian.
Theonegoodthingaboutbeingcar-lessisthatonthebusonmywaytowork,
IcanplugmyheadphonesintomyiPadwhileit’ssafelyinmypurseand
listentoallthewonderfultunesChristianhasgivenme.BythetimeIarrive
attheoffice,Ihavethemostludicrousgrinonmyface.
Jackglancesupatmeanddoesadoubletake.
“Goodmorning,Ana.Youlook…radiant.”Hisremarkflustersme.How
inappropriate!“Isleptwell,thankyou,Jack.Goodmorning.”
Hisbrowcrinkles.
“Canyoureadtheseformeandhavereportsonthembylunchtime,please?”
Hehandsmefourmanuscripts.Atmyhorrifiedexpression,headds,“Just
firstchapters.”
“Sure,”Ismilewithrelief,andhegivesmeabroadsmileinreturn.
Iswitchonthecomputertostartwork,finishingmylatteandeatingabanana.
There’sane-mailfromChristian.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:SoHelpMe…
Date:June10,201108:05
To:AnastasiaSteele
Idohopeyou’vehadbreakfast.
Imissedyoulastnight.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Oldbooks…
Date:June10,201108:33
To:ChristianGrey
IameatingabananaasItype.Ihavenothadbreakfastforseveraldays,soit
isastepforward.IlovetheBritishLibraryApp—Istartedrereading
RobinsonCrusoe…andofcourse,Iloveyou.
Nowleavemealone—Iamtryingtowork.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Isthatallyou’veeaten?
Date:June10,201108:36
To:AnastasiaSteele
Youcandobetterthanthat.You’regoingtoneedyourenergyforbegging.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Pest
Date:June10,201108:39
To:ChristianGrey
Mr.Grey—Iamtryingtoworkforaliving—andit’syouthatwillbebegging.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:BringitOn!
Date:June10,201108:36
To:AnastasiaSteele
WhyMissSteele,Iloveachallenge…
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Isitgrinningatthescreenlikeanidiot.ButIneedtoreadthesechaptersfor
Jackandwritereportsonallofthem.Placingthemanuscriptsonmydesk,I
begin.
AtlunchtimeIheadtothedeliforapastramisandwichandlistentothe
playlistonmyiPad.Firstupthere’sNitinSawhney,someworldmusiccalled
“Homelands”—it’sgood.
Mr.Greyhasaneclectictasteinmusic.Iwanderback,listeningtoaclassical
piece,FantasiaonaThemeofThomasTallisbyVaughnWilliams.Oh,Fifty
hasasenseofhumour,andIlovehimforit.Willthisstupidgrineverleave
myface?
Theafternoondrags.Idecide,inanunguardedmoment,toe-mailChristian.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Bored…
Date:June10,201116:05
To:ChristianGrey
Twiddlingmythumbs.
Howareyou?
Whatareyoudoing?
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Yourthumbs
Date:June10,201116:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
Youshouldhavecometoworkforme.
Youwouldn’tbetwiddlingyourthumbs.
IamsureIcouldputthemtobetteruse.
InfactIcanthinkofanumberofoptions…
Iamdoingtheusualhumdrummergersandacquisitions.
It’sallverydry.
Youre-mailsatSIParemonitored.
ChristianGrey
DistractedCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Ohshit.Ihadnoidea.Howthehelldoesheknow?Iscowlatthescreenand
quicklycheckthee-mailswe’vesent,deletingthemasIdo.
Promptlyatfivethirty,Jackisatmydesk.ItisDress-downFridaysohe’s
wearingjeansandablackshirt.Helooksverycasual.
“Drink,Ana?Weusuallyliketogoforaquickoneatthebaracrossthe
street.”
“We?”Iask,hopeful.
“Yeah,mostofusgo…youcoming?”
Forsomeunknownreason,whichIdon’twanttoexaminetooclosely,relief
floodsthroughme.
“I’dloveto.What’sthebarcalled?”
“50s.”
“You’rekidding.”
Helooksatmeoddly.“No.Somesignificanceforyou?”
“No,sorry.I’lljoinyouoverthere.”
“Whatwouldyouliketodrink?”
“Abeerplease.”
“Cool.”
Imakemywaytothepowderroomande-mailChristianfromtheBlackberry.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:You’llFitRightIn
Date:June10,201117:36
To:ChristianGrey
WearegoingtoabarcalledFifty’s.
TherichseamofhumourthatIcouldminefromthisisendless.
Ilookforwardtoseeingyouthere,Mr.Grey.
Ax
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Hazards
Date:June10,201117:38
To:AnastasiaSteele
Miningisavery,verydangerousoccupation.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Hazards?
Date:June10,201117:40
To:ChristianGrey
Andyourpointis?
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Merely…
Date:June10,201117:42
To:AnastasiaSteele
Makinganobservation,MissSteele.
I’llseeyoushortly.
Soonersratherthanlaters,baby.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Icheckmyselfinthemirror.Whatadifferenceadaycanmake.Ihavemore
colourinmycheeks,andmyeyesareshining.It’stheChristianGreyeffect.A
littlee-mailsparringwithhimwilldothattoagirl.Igrinatthemirrorand
straightenmypaleblueshirt—theoneTaylorboughtme.Iamwearingmy
favouritejeanstoday,too.Mostofthewomenintheofficeweareitherjeans
orfloatyskirts.Iwillneedtoinvestinafloatyskirtortwo.PerhapsI’lldo
thatthisweekendandbankthecheckChristiangavemeforWanda,my
Beetle.
AsIheadoutofthebuilding,Ihearmynamecalled.
“MissSteele?”
Iturnexpectantly,andanashenyoungwomanapproachesmecautiously.She
lookslikeaghost—sopaleandstrangelyblank.
“MissAnastasiaSteele?”sherepeats,andherfeaturesstaystaticeventhough
she’sspeaking.
“Yes?”
Shestops,staringatmefromaboutthreefeetawayonthesidewalk,andI
stareback,immobilized.Whoisshe?Whatdoesshewant?
“CanIhelpyou?”Iask.Howdoessheknowmyname?
“No…Ijustwantedtolookatyou.”Hervoiceiseerilysoft.Likeme,she
hasdarkhairthatstarklycontrastswithherfairskin.Hereyesarebrown,like
bourbon,butflat.
There’snolifeinthematall.Herbeautifulfaceispale,andetchedwith
sorrow.
“Sorry—youhavemeatadisadvantage,”Isaypolitely,tryingtoignorethe
warningtingleupmyspine.Oncloserinspection,shelooksodd,dishevelled
anduncaredfor.Herclothesaretwosizestoobig,includingherdesigner
trenchcoat.
Shelaughs,astrange,discordantsoundthatonlyfeedsmyanxiety.
“WhatdoyouhavethatIdon’t?”sheaskssadly.
Myanxietyturnstofear.“I’msorry—whoareyou?”
“Me?I’mnobody.”Sheliftsherarmtodragherhandthroughhershoulder
lengthhair,andasshedoes,thesleeveofhertrenchcoatridesup,revealinga
soiledbandagearoundherwrist.
Holyfuck.
“Goodday,MissSteele.”Turning,shewalksupthestreetasIstandrootedto
thespot.
Iwatchasherslightframedisappearsfromview,lostamongsttheworkers
pouringoutoftheirvariousoffices.
Whatwasthatabout?
Confused,Icrossthestreettothebar,tryingtoassimilatewhathasjust
happened,whilemysubconsciousrearsheruglyheadandhissesatme—She
hassomethingtodowithChristian.
Fifty’sisacavernous,impersonalbarwithbaseballpennantsandposters
hangingonthewall.JackisatthebarwithElizabeth,Courtneytheother
commissioningeditor,twoguysfromfinance,andClairefromreception.She
iswearinghertrademarksilverhoopedearrings.
“Hi,Ana!”JackhandsmeabottleofBud.
“Cheers…thankyou,”Imurmur,stillshakenbymyencounterwithGhost
Girl.
“Cheers.”Weclinkbottles,andhecontinueshisconversationwithElizabeth.
Clairesmilessweetlyatme.
“So,howhasyourfirstweekbeen?”sheasks.
“Good,thankyou.Everyoneseemsveryfriendly.”
“Youseemmuchhappiertoday.”
Iflush.“It’sFriday,”Imutterquickly.“So—haveyouanyplansthis
weekend?”
MypatenteddistractiontechniqueworksandI’msaved.Claireturnsouttobe
oneofsevenkids,andshe’sgoingtoabigfamilyget-togetherinTacoma.She
becomesquiteanimated,andIrealizeIhaven’tspokentoanywomenmy
ownagesinceKateleftforBarbados.
AbsentlyIwonderhowKateis…andElliot.Imustremembertoask
Christianifhe’sheardfromhim.Oh,andEthanherbrotherwillbebacknext
Tuesday,andhe’llbestayinginourapartment.Ican’timagineChristianis
goingtobehappyaboutthat.MyearlierencounterwithstrangeGhostGirl
slipsfurtherfrommymind.
DuringmyconversationwithClaire,Elizabethhandsmeanotherbeer.
“Thanks,”Ismileather.
Claireisveryeasytotalkto—shelikestotalk—andbeforeIknowit,Iamon
mythirdbeer,courtesyofoneoftheguysfromfinance.
WhenElizabethandCourtneyleave,JackjoinsClaireandme.Whereis
Christian?
OneofthefinanceguysengagesClaireinconversation.
“Ana,thinkyoumadetherightdecisioncominghere?”Jack’svoiceissoft,
andhe’sstandingabittooclose.ButI’venoticedthathehasatendencytodo
thiswitheveryone,evenattheoffice.Mysubconsciousnarrowshereyes.
You’rereadingtoomuchintothis,sheadmonishesme.
“I’veenjoyedmyselfthisweek,thankyou,Jack.Yes,IthinkImadetheright
decision.”
“You’reaverybrightgirl,Ana.You’llgofar.”
Iblush.“Thankyou,”Imutter,becauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetosay.
“Doyoulivefar?”
“ThePikeMarketdistrict.”
“Notfarfromme.”Smiling,hemovesevencloserandleansagainstthebar,
effectivelytrappingme.“Doyouhaveanyplansthisweekend?”
“Well…um—”
IfeelhimbeforeIseehim.It’sasifmywholebodyishighlyattunedtohis
presence.
Itrelaxesandignitesatthesametime—aweird,internalduality—andIsense
thatstrangepulsingelectricity.
Christiandrapeshisarmaroundmyshoulderinaseeminglycasualdisplayof
affection—butIknowdifferently.Heisstakingaclaim,andonthisoccasion,
it’sverywelcome.
Softlyhekissesmyhair.
“Hello,baby,”hemurmurs.
Ican’thelpbutfeelrelieved,safe,andexcitedwithhisarmaroundme.He
drawsmetohisside,andIglanceupathimwhilehestaresatJack,his
expressionimpassive.Turninghisattentiontome,hegivesmeabrief
crookedsmilefollowedbyaswiftkiss.He’swearinghisnavypinstriped
jacketoverjeansandanopenwhiteshirt.Helooksedible.
Jackshufflesbackuncomfortably.
“Jack,thisisChristian,”Imumbleapologetically.WhyamIapologizing?
“Christian,Jack.”
“I’mtheboyfriend,”Christiansayswithasmall,coolsmilethatdoesn’treach
hiseyesasheshakesJack’shand.IglanceupatJackwhoismentally
assessingthefinespecimenofmanhoodinfrontofhim.
“I’mtheboss,”Jackrepliesarrogantly.“Anadidmentionanex-boyfriend.”
Oh,shit.Youdon’twanttoplaythisgamewithFifty.
“Well,nolongerex,”Christianrepliescalmly.“Comeon,baby,timetogo.”
“Please,stayandjoinusforadrink,”Jacksayssmoothly.
Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea.Whyisthissouncomfortable?Iglanceat
Claire,whois,ofcoursestaring,open-mouthedandwithfranklycarnal
appreciationatChristian.
WhenwillIstopcaringabouttheeffecthehasonotherwomen?
“Wehaveplans,”Christianreplieswithhisenigmaticsmile.
Wedo?Andafrissonofanticipationrunsthroughmybody.
“Anothertime,perhaps,”headds.“Come,”hesaystomeashetakesmy
hand.
“SeeyouMonday.”IsmileatJack,Claire,andtheguysfromfinance,trying
hardtoignoreJack’sless-than-pleasedexpression,andfollowChristianoutof
thedoor.
TaylorisatthewheeloftheAudiwaitingatthecurb.
“Whydidthatfeellikeapissingcontest?”IaskChristianasheopensthecar
doorforme.“Becauseitwas,”hemurmursandgivesmehisenigmaticsmile
thenshutsmydoor.
“Hello,Taylor,”Isayandoureyesmeetinthereviewmirror.
“MissSteele,”Tayloracknowledgeswithagenialsmile.
Christianslidesinbesideme,claspsmyhand,andgentlykissesmyknuckles.
“Hi,”hesayssoftly.
Mycheeksturnpink,knowingthatTaylorcanhearus,gratefulthathecan’t
seethescorching,panty-combustinglookthatChristianisgivingme.Ittakes
allmyself-restraintnottoleaponhimrighthere,inthebackseatofthecar.
Oh,thebackseatofthecar…hmm.Myinnergoddessstrokesherchingently
inquietcontemplation.
“Hi,”Ibreathe,mymouthdry.
“Whatwouldyouliketodothisevening?”
“Ithoughtyousaidwehadplans.”
“Oh,IknowwhatI’dliketodo,Anastasia.I’maskingyouwhatyouwantto
do.”
Ibeamathim.
“Isee,”hesayswithawickedlysalaciousgrin.“So…beggingitis,then.Do
youwanttobegatmyplaceoryours?”Hetiltshisheadtoonesideand
smileshisoh-so-sexysmileatme.
“Ithinkyou’rebeingverypresumptuous,Mr.Grey.Butbywayofachange,
wecouldgotomyapartment.”Ibitemylipdeliberately,andhisexpression
darkens.
“Taylor,MissSteele’s,please.”
“Sir,”Tayloracknowledgesandheheadsoffintothetraffic.
“Sohowhasyourdaybeen?”heasks.
“Good.Yours?”
“Good,thankyou.”
Hisridiculouslybroadgrinreflectsmine,andhekissesmyhandagain.
“Youlooklovely,”hesays.
“Asdoyou.”
“Yourboss,JackHyde,ishegoodathisjob?”
Whoa!That’sasuddenchangeindirection?Ifrown.“Why?Thisisn’tabout
yourpissingcontest?”
Christiansmirks.“Thatmanwantsintoyourpanties,Anastasia,”hesays
dryly.
Igocrimsonasmymouthdropsopen,andIglancenervouslyatTaylor.My
subconsciousinhalessharply,shocked.
“Well,hecanwantallhelikes…whyareweevenhavingthisconversation?
YouknowIhavenointerestinhimwhatsoever.He’sjustmyboss.”
“That’sthepoint.Hewantswhat’smine.Ineedtoknowifhe’sgoodathis
job.”
Ishrug.“Ithinkso.”Whereishegoingwiththis?
“Well,he’dbetterleaveyoualone,orhe’llfindhimselfonhisassonthe
sidewalk.”
“Oh,Christian,whatareyoutalkingabout?Hehasn’tdoneanythingwrong.”
…Yet.
Hejuststandstooclose.
“Hemakesonemove,youtellme.It’scalledgrossmoralturpitude—or
sexualharassment.”
“Itwasjustadrinkafterwork.”
“Imeanit.Onemoveandhe’sout.”
“Youdon’thavethatkindofpower.”Honestly!AndbeforeIrollmyeyesat
him,therealizationhitsmewiththeforceofaspeedingfreighttruck.“Do
you,Christian?”
Christiangivesmehisenigmaticsmile.
“You’rebuyingthecompany,”Iwhisperinhorror.
Hissmileslipsinresponsetothepanicinmyvoice.“Notexactly,”hesays.
“You’veboughtit.SIP.Already.”
Heblinksatme,warily.“Possibly.”
“Youhaveoryouhaven’t?”
“Have.”
Whatthehell?“Why?”Igasp,appalled.Oh,thisjustistoomuch.
“BecauseIcan,Anastasia.Ineedyousafe.”
“Butyousaidyouwouldn’tinterfereinmycareer!”
“AndIwon’t.”
Isnatchmyhandoutofhis.“Christian…”Wordsfailme.
“Areyoumadatme?”
“Yes.OfcourseI’mmadatyou.”Iseethe.“Imean,whatkindofresponsible
businessexecutivemakesdecisionsbasedonwhotheyarecurrently
fucking?”IblanchandglancenervouslyoncemoreatTaylorwhoisstoically
ignoringus.
Shit.Whatatimetohaveabrain-to-mouthfiltermalfunction.Anastasia!My
subconsciousglaresatme.
Christianopenshismouththenclosesitagainandscowlsatme.Iglareat
him.Theatmosphereinthecarplungesfromwarmwithsweetreunionto
frigidwithunspokenwordsandpotentialrecriminationsasweglowerateach
other.
Fortunately,ouruncomfortablecarjourneydoesn’tlastlong,andTaylorpulls
upoutsidemyapartment.
Iscrambleoutofthecarquickly,notwaitingforanyonetoopenthedoor.
IhearChristianmuttertoTaylor,“Ithinkyou’dbetterwaithere.”
IsensehimstandingclosebehindmeasIstruggletofindthefrontdoorkeys
inmypurse.
“Anastasia,”hesayscalmlyasifI’msomecorneredwildanimal.
Isighandturntofacehim.Iamsomadathim,myangerispalpable—adark
entitythreateningtochokeme.
“First,Ihaven’tfuckedyouforawhile—alongwhile,itfeels—andsecond,I
wantedtogetintopublishing.OfthefourcompaniesinSeattle,SIPisthe
mostprofitable,butit’sonthecuspandit’sgoingtostagnate—itneedsto
branchout.”
Istarefrigidlyathim.Hiseyesaresointense,threateningeven,butsexyas
hell.Icouldgetlostintheirsteelydepths.
“Soyou’remybossnow,”Isnap.
“Technically,I’myourboss’sboss’sboss.”
“And,technically,it’sgrossmoralturpitude—thefactthatIamfuckingmy
boss’sboss’sboss.”
“Atthemoment,you’rearguingwithhim.”Christianscowls.
“That’sbecausehe’ssuchanarse,”Ihiss.
Christianstepsbackinstunnedsurprise.Ohshit.HaveIgonetoofar?
“Anarse?”hemurmursashisexpressionchangestooneofamusement.
Goddamnit!Iammadatyou,donotmakemelaugh!
“Yes.”Istruggletomaintainmylookofmoraloutrage.
“Anarse?”Christiansaysagain.Thistimehislipstwitchwitharepressed
smile.
“Don’tmakemelaughwhenIammadatyou!”Ishout.
Andhesmiles,adazzling,full-toothed,all-American-boysmile,andIcan’t
helpit.Iamgrinningandlaughing,too.HowcouldInotbeaffectedbythe
joyIseeinhissmile?
“JustbecauseIhaveastupiddamngrinonmyfacedoesn’tmeanI’mnotmad
ashellatyou,”Imutterbreathlessly,tryingtosuppressmyhigh-school-
cheerleadergiggling.
ThoughIwasnevercheerleader—thebitterthoughtcrossesmymind.
Heleansin,andIthinkhe’sgoingtokissmebuthedoesn’t.Henuzzlesmy
hairandinhalesdeeply.
“Asever,MissSteele,youareunexpected.”Heleansbackandgazesatme,
hiseyesdancingwithhumour.“Soareyougoingtoinvitemein,oramItobe
sentpackingforexercisingmydemocraticrightasanAmericancitizen,
entrepreneur,andconsumertopurchasewhateverIdamnwellplease?”
“HaveyouspokentoDr.Flynnaboutthis?”
Helaughs.“Areyougoingtoletmeinornot,Anastasia?”
Itryforagrudginglook—bitingmyliphelps—butI’msmilingasIopenthe
door.
ChristianturnsandwavestoTaylor,andtheAudipullsaway.
It’soddhavingChristianGreyintheapartment.Theplacefeelstoosmallfor
him.
Iamstillmadathim—hisstalkingknowsnobounds,anditdawnsonmethat
thisishowheknewaboutthee-mailbeingmonitoredatSIP.Heprobably
knowsmoreaboutSIP
thanIdo.Thethoughtisunsavoury.
WhatcanIdo?Whydoeshehavethisneedtokeepmesafe?Iamagrown-up
—sortof—forheaven’ssake.WhatcanIdotoreassurehim?
Igazeathisbeautifulfaceashepacestheroomlikeacagedpredator,andmy
angersubsides.SeeinghimhereinmyspacewhenIthoughtwewereoveris
heart-warming.
Morethanheart-warming,Ilovehim,andmyheartswellswithanervous,
headyelation.
Heglancesaround,assessinghissurroundings.
“Niceplace,”hesays.
“Kate’sparentsboughtitforher.”
Henodsdistractedly,andhisboldgreyeyescometorestonmine,staringat
me.
“Er…wouldyoulikeadrink?”Imutter,flushingwithnerves.
“No,thankyou,Anastasia.”Hiseyesdarken.
Ohcrap.WhyamIsonervous?
“Whatwouldyouliketodo,Anastasia?”heaskssoftlyashewalkstoward
me,allferalandhot.“IknowwhatIwanttodo,”headdsinalowvoice.
IbackupuntilIbumpagainsttheconcretekitchenisland.
“I’mstillmadatyou.”
“Iknow.”HesmilesalopsidedapologeticsmileandImelt…Well,maybe
notsomad.
“Wouldyoulikesomethingtoeat?”Iask.
Henodsslowly.“Yes.You,”hemurmurs.Everythingsouthofmywaistline
clenches.
I’mseducedbyhisvoicealone,butthatlook,thathungryI-want-you-now
look—ohmy.
He’sstandinginfrontofme,notquitetouching,staringdownintomyeyes
andbathingmeintheheatthat’sradiatingoffhisbody.I’mstiflinglyhot,
flustered,andmylegsarelikejellyasdarkdesirecoursesthroughme.Iwant
him.
“Haveyoueatentoday?”hemurmurs.
“Ihadasandwichatlunch,”Iwhisper.Idon’twanttotalkfood.
Henarrowshiseyes.“Youneedtoeat.”
“I’mreallynothungryrightnow…forfood.”
“Whatareyouhungryfor,MissSteele?”
“Ithinkyouknow,Mr.Grey.”
Heleansdown,andagainIthinkhe’sgoingtokissme,buthedoesn’t.
“Doyouwantmetokissyou,Anastasia?”hewhisperssoftlyinmyear.
“Yes,”Ibreathe.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“You’regoingtohavetobeabitmorespecificthanthat.ItoldyouIamnot
goingtotouchyouuntilyoubegmeandtellmewhattodo.”
Myinnergoddessiswrithingonherchaiselongue.Iamlost;he’snotplaying
fair.
“Please,”Iwhisper.
“Pleasewhat?”
“Touchme.”
“Where,baby?”
Heissotantalizinglyclose,hisscentintoxicating.Ireachup,and
immediatelyhestepsback.“No,no,”hechides,hiseyessuddenlywideand
alarmed.
“What?”No…comeback.
“No.”Heshakeshishead.
“Notatall?”Ican’tkeepthelongingoutofmyvoice.
Helooksatmeuncertainly,andI’memboldenedbyhishesitation.Istep
towardhim,andhestepsback,holdinguphishandsindefence,butsmiling.
“Look,Ana.”It’sawarning,andherunshishandthroughhishair,
exasperated.
“Sometimesyoudon’tmind,”Iobserveplaintively.“PerhapsIshouldfinda
markerpen,andwecouldmapouttheno-goareas.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“That’snotabadidea.Where’syourbedroom?”
Inodinthedirection.Ishedeliberatelychangingthesubject?
“Haveyoubeentakingyourpill?”
Ohshit.Mypill.
Hisfacefallsatmyexpression.
“No,”Isqueak.
“Isee,”hesays,andhislipspressintoathinline.“Come,let’shave
somethingtoeat.”
Ohno!
“Ithoughtweweregoingtobed!Iwanttogotobedwithyou.”
“Iknow,baby.”Hesmiles,andsuddenlydartingtowardme,hegrabsmy
wristsandpullsmeintohisarmssothathisbodyispressedagainstmine.
“YouneedtoeatandsodoI,”hemurmurs,burninggreyeyesgazingdownat
me.
“Besides…anticipationisthekeytoseduction,andrightnow,I’mreallyinto
delayedgratification.”
Huh,sincewhen?
“I’mseducedandIwantmygratificationnow.I’llbeg,please.”Isound
whiney.Myinnergoddessisbesideherself.
Hesmilesatmetenderly.“Eat.You’retooslender.”Hekissesmyforehead
andreleasesme.
Thisisagame,partofsomeevilplan.Iscowlathim.
“I’mstillmadthatyouboughtSIP,andnowIammadatyoubecauseyou’re
makingmewait.”Ipout.
“Youareoneangrylittlemadam,aren’tyou?You’llfeelbetterafteragood
meal.”
“IknowwhatI’llfeelbetterafter.”
“AnastasiaSteele,I’mshocked.”Histoneisgentlymocking.
“Stopteasingme.Youdon’tfightfair.”
Hestifleshisgrinbybitinghislowerlip.Helookssimplyadorable…playful
Christiantoyingwithmylibido.Ifonlymyseductionskillswerebetter,I’d
knowwhattodo,butnotbeingabletotouchhimdoeshamperme.
Myinnergoddessnarrowshereyesandlooksthoughtful.Weneedtoworkon
this.
AsChristianandIgazeateachother—mehot,botheredandyearningand
him,relaxedandamusedatmyexpense—IrealizeIhavenofoodinthe
apartment.
“Icouldcooksomething—exceptwe’llhavetogoshopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Forgroceries.”
“Youhavenofoodhere?”Hisexpressionhardens.
Ishakemyhead.Crap,helooksquiteangry.
“Let’sgoshopping,then,”hesayssternlyasheturnsonhisheelandheads
forthedoor,openingitwideforme.
“Whenwasthelasttimeyouwereinasupermarket?”
Christianlooksoutofplace,buthefollowsmedutifully,holdingashopping
basket.
“Ican’tremember.”
“DoesMrs.Jonesdoalltheshopping?”
“IthinkTaylorhelpsher.I’mnotsure.”
“Areyouhappywithastir-fry?It’squick.”
“Stir-frysoundsgood.”Christiangrins,nodoubtfiguringoutmyulterior
motiveforaspeedymeal.
“Havetheyworkedforyoulong?”
“Taylor,fouryears,Ithink.Mrs.Jonesaboutthesame.Whydidn’tyouhave
anyfoodintheapartment?”
“Youknowwhy,”Imurmur,flushing.
“Itwasyouwholeftme,”hemuttersdisapprovingly.
“Iknow,”Ireplyinasmallvoice,notwantingthatreminder.
Wereachthecheckoutandsilentlystandinline.
IfIhadn’tleft,wouldhehaveofferedthevanillaalternative?Iwonderidly.
“Doyouhaveanythingtodrink?”Hepullsmebacktothepresent.
“Beer…Ithink.”
“I’llgetsomewine.”
Ohdear.I’mnotsurewhatsortofwineisavailableinErnie’sSupermarket.
Christianremergesemptyhanded,grimacingwithalookofdisgust.
“There’sagoodliquorstorenextdoor,”Isayquickly.
“I’llseewhattheyhave.”
Maybeweshouldjustgotohisplace,thenwewouldn’thaveallthishassle.I
watchashestrollspurposefullyandwitheasygraceoutofthedoor.Two
womencominginstopandstare.Ohyes,eyemyFiftyShades,Ithink
despondently.
Iwantthememoryofhiminmybed,buthe’splayinghardtoget.MaybeI
should,too.
Myinnergoddessnodsfranticallyinagreement.AndasIstandinline,we
comeupwithaplan.Hmm…
Christiancarriesthegrocerybagsintotheapartment.He’scarriedthemas
we’vewalkedbacktotheapartmentfromthestore.Helooksodd.Nothis
usualCEOdemeanouratall.
“Youlookvery—domestic.”
“Noonehaseveraccusedmeofthatbefore,”hesaysdryly.Heplacesthe
bagsonthekitchenisland.AsIstarttounloadthem,hetakesoutabottleof
whitewineandsearchesforacorkscrew.
“Thisplaceisstillnewtome.Ithinktheopenerisinthatdrawerthere.”I
pointwithmychin.
Thisfeelsso…normal.Twopeople,gettingtoknoweachother,havinga
meal.Yetit’ssostrange.ThefearthatI’dalwaysfeltinhispresencehas
gone.We’vealreadydonesomuchtogether,Iblushjustthinkingaboutit,and
yetIhardlyknowhim.
“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”Christianinterruptsmyreverieasheshrugs
outofhispinstripejacketandplacesitonthecouch.
“HowlittleIknowyou,really.”
Hegazesatmeandhiseyessoften.“Youknowmebetterthananyone.”
“Idon’tthinkthat’strue.”Mrs.Robinsoncomesunbidden,andvery
unwelcome,intomymind.
“Itis,Anastasia.Iamavery,veryprivateperson.”
Hehandsmeaglassofwhitewine.
“Cheers,”hesays.
“Cheers,”Irespondtakingasipasheputsthebottleinthefridge.
“CanIhelpyouwiththat?”heasks.
“Noit’sfine…sit.”
“I’dliketohelp.”Hisexpressionissincere.
“Youcanchopthevegetables.”
“Idon’tcook,”hesays,regardingtheknifeIhandhimwithsuspicion.
“Iimagineyoudon’tneedto.”Iplaceachoppingboardandsomeredpeppers
infrontofhim.Hestaresdownattheminconfusion.
“You’veneverchoppedavegetable?”
“No.”
Ismirkathim.
“Areyousmirkingatme?”
“ItappearsthisissomethingthatIcandoandyoucan’t.Let’sfaceit,
Christian,Ithinkthisisafirst.Here,I’llshowyou.”
Ibrushupagainsthimandhestepsback.Myinnergoddesssitsupandtakes
notice.
“Likethis.”Islicetheredpepper,carefultoremovetheseeds.
“Lookssimpleenough.”
“Youshouldn’thaveanytroublewithit,”Imutterironically.
HegazesatmeimpassivelyforamomentthensetsabouthistaskasI
continuetopreparethedicedchicken.Hestartstoslice,carefully,slowly.Oh
my,we’llbehereallday.
Iwashmyhandsandhuntforthewok,theoil,andtheotheringredientsI
need,repeatedlybrushingagainsthim—myhip,myarm,myback,myhands.
Small,seeminglyinnocenttouches.HestillseachtimeIdo.
“Iknowwhatyou’redoing,Anastasia,”hemurmursdarkly,stillpreparingthe
firstpepper.
“Ithinkit’scalledcooking,”Isay,flutteringmyeyelashes.Grabbinganother
knife,Ijoinhimatthechoppingboardpeelingandslicinggarlic,shallots,and
Frenchbeans,continuallybumpingagainsthim.
“You’requitegoodatthis,”hemuttersashestartsonhissecondredpepper.
“Chopping?”Ibatmyeyelashesathim.“Yearsofpractice.”Ibrushagainst
himagain,thistimewithmybehind.Hestillsoncemore.
“Ifyoudothatagain,Anastasia,Iamgoingtotakeyouonthekitchenfloor.”
Oh,wow.It’sworking.“You’llhavetobegmefirst.”
“Isthatachallenge?”
“Maybe.”
Heputsdownhisknifeandsauntersslowlyovertome,hiseyesburning.
Leaningpastme,heswitchesthegasoff.Theoilinthewokquietsalmost
immediately.
“Ithinkwe’lleatlater,”hesays.“Putthechickeninthefridge.”
ThisisnotasentenceIhadeverexpectedtohearfromChristianGrey,and
onlyhecanmakeitsoundhot,reallyhot.Ipickupthebowlofdicedchicken,
rathershakilyplaceaplateontopofit,andstowitinthefridge.WhenIturn
back,he’sbesideme.
“Soyou’regoingtobeg?”Iwhisper,bravelygazingintohisdarkeningeyes.
“No,Anastasia.”Heshakeshishead.“Nobegging.”Hisvoiceissoft,
seductive.
Andwestandstaringateachother,drinkingeachotherin—theatmosphere
chargingbetweenus,almostcrackling,neithersayinganything,justlooking.I
bitemylipasdesireforthisbeautifulmanseizesmewithavengeance,
ignitingmyblood,shallowingmybreath,poolingbelowmywaist.Iseemy
reactionsreflectedinhisstance,inhiseyes.
Inabeat,hegrabsmebymyhipsandpullsmetohimasmyhandsreachfor
hishairandhismouthclaimsme.Hepushesmeagainstthefridge,andIhear
thevagueprotestingrattleofbottlesandjarsfromwithinashistonguefinds
mine.Imoanintohismouth,andoneofhishandsmovesintomyhair,pulling
myheadbackaswekiss,savagely.
“Whatdoyouwant,Anastasia?”hebreathes.
“You.”Igasp.
“Where?”
“Bed.”
Hebreaksfree,scoopsmeintohisarms,andcarriesmequicklyand
seeminglywithoutanystrainintomybedroom.Settingmeonmyfeetbeside
mybed,heleansdownandswitchesonmybedsidelamp.Heglancesquickly
roundtheroomandhastilyclosesthepalecreamcurtains.
“Nowwhat?”hesayssoftly.
“Makelovetome.”
“How?”
Jeez.
“Youhavegottotellme,baby.”
Holycrap.“Undressme.”Iampantingalready.
Hesmilesandhookshisindexfingerintomyopenshirt,pullingmetoward
him.
“Goodgirl,”hemurmurs,andwithouttakinghisblazingeyesoffmine,
slowlystartstounbuttonmyshirt.
TentativelyIputmyhandsonhisarmstosteadymyself.Hedoesn’t
complain.Hisarmsareasafearea.Whenhe’sfinishedwiththebuttons,he
pullsmyshirtovermyshoulders,andIletgoofhimtolettheshirtfalltothe
floor.Hereachesdowntothewaistbandofmyjeans,popsthebutton,and
pullsdownthezipper.
“Tellmewhatyouwant,Anastasia.”Hiseyessmoulderandhislipspartashe
takesquickshallowbreaths.
“Kissmefromheretohere,”Iwhispertrailingmyfingerfromthebaseofmy
ear,downmythroat.Hesmoothesmyhairoutofthelineoffireandbends,
leavingsweetsoftkissesalongthepathmyfingertookandthenbackagain.
“Myjeansandpanties,”Imurmur,andhesmilesagainstmythroatbeforehe
dropstohiskneesinfrontofme.Oh,Ifeelsopowerful.Hookinghisthumbs
intomyjeans,hegentlypullsthemandmypantiesdownmylegs.Istepout
ofmypumpsandmyclothessothatI’mleftwearingonlymybra.Hestops
andlooksupatmeexpectantly,buthedoesn’tgetup.
“Whatnow,Anastasia?”
“Kissme,”Iwhisper.
“Where?”
“Youknowwhere.”
“Where?”
Oh,he’stakingnoprisoners.EmbarrassedIquicklypointattheapexofmy
thighs,andhegrinswickedly.Iclosemyeyes,mortified,butatthesametime
beyondaroused.
“Oh,withpleasure,”hechuckles.Hekissesmeandunleasheshistongue,his
joy-inspiringexperttongue.Igroanandfistmyhandsintohishair.He
doesn’tstop,histonguecirclingmyclitoris,drivingmeinsane,onandon,
roundandround.Ahhh…it’sonlybeen…howlong…?Oh…
“Christian,please,”Ibeg.Idon’twanttocomestandingup.Idon’thavethe
strength.
“Pleasewhat,Anastasia?”
“Makelovetome.”
“Iam,”hemurmurs,gentlyblowingagainstme.
“No.Iwantyouinsideme.”
“Areyousure?”
“Please.”
Hedoesn’tstophissweet,exquisitetorture.Imoanloudly.
“Christian…please.”
Hestandsandgazesdownatme,andhislipsglistenwiththeevidenceofmy
arousal.
Holycow…
“Well?”heasks.
“Wellwhat?”Ipant,staringupathiminfranticneed.
“I’mstilldressed.”
Igapeathiminconfusion.
Undresshim?Yes,Icandothis.Ireachforhisshirtandhestepsback.
“Ohno,”headmonishes.Shit,hemeanshisjeans.
Oh,andthisgivesmeanidea.Myinnergoddesscheersloudlytotherafters,
andIdroptomykneesinfrontofhim.Ratherclumsilyandwithshaking
fingers,Iundohiswaistbandandfly,thenyankdownhisjeansandboxers,
andhespringsfree.Wow.
Ipeekupathimthroughmylashes,andhe’sgazingatmewith…what?
Trepidation?
Awe?Surprise?
Hestepsoutofhisjeansandpullsoffhissocks,andItakeholdofhiminmy
handandsqueezetightly,pushingmyhandbacklikehe’sshownmebefore.
Hegroansandtenses,andhisbreathhissesthroughclenchedteeth.Very
tentatively,Iputhiminmymouthandsuck—hard.Mmm,hetastesgood.
“Ahh.Ana…whoa,gently.”
Hecupsmyheadtenderly,andIpushhimdeeperintomymouth,pressingmy
lipstogetherastightlyasIcan,sheathingmyteeth,andsuckinghard.
“Fuck,”hehisses.
Oh,that’sagood,inspiring,sexysound,soIdoitagain,pullinghislength
deeper,swirlingmytonguearoundtheend.Hmm…IfeellikeAphrodite.
“Ana,that’senough.Nomore.”
Idoitagain—Beg,Grey,beg—andagain.
“Ana,you’vemadeyourpoint,”hegruntsthroughgrittedteeth.“Idonot
wanttocomeinyourmouth.”
Idoitoncemore,andhebendsdown,graspsmebymyshoulders,haulsme
tomyfeet,andtossesmeonthebed.Dragginghisshirtoverhishead,hethen
reachesdowntohisdiscardedjeans,andlikeagoodboyscout,producesa
foilpacket.He’spanting,likeme.
“Takeyourbraoff,”heorders.
IsitupanddoasI’mtold.
“Liedown.Iwanttolookatyou.”
Iliedown,gazingupathimasheslowlyrollsthecondomon.Iwanthimso
badly.Hestaresdownatmeandlickshislips.
“Youareafinesight,AnastasiaSteele.”Hebendsoverthebedandslowly
crawlsupandoverme,kissingmeashegoes.Hekisseseachofmybreasts
andteasesmynipplesinturn,whileIgroanandwrithebeneathhim,andhe
doesn’tstop.
No…Stop.Iwantyou.
“Christian,please.”
“Pleasewhat?”hemurmursbetweenmybreasts.
“Iwantyouinsideme.”
“Doyounow?”
“Please.”
Gazingatme,hepushesmylegsapartwithhisandmovessothathe’s
hoveringaboveme.Withouttakinghiseyesoffmine,hesinksintomeata
deliciouslyslowpace.
Iclosemyeyes,relishingthefullness,theexquisitefeelingofhispossession,
instinctivelytiltingmypelvisuptomeethim,tojoinwithhim,groaning
loudly.Heeasesbackandveryslowlyfillsmeagain.Myfingersfindtheir
wayintohissilkenunrulyhair,andheoh-so-slowlymovesinandoutagain.
“Faster,Christian,faster…please.”
Hegazesdownatmeintriumphandkissesmehard,thenreallystartsto
move—holycow,apunishing,relentless…ohfuck—andIknowitwillnot
belong.Hesetsapoundingrhythm.Istarttoquicken,mylegstensing
beneathhim.
“Comeon,baby,”hegasps.“Giveittome.”
Hiswordsaremyundoing,andIexplode,magnificently,mind-numbingly,
intoamillionpiecesaroundhim,andhefollowscallingoutmyname.
“Ana!Ohfuck,Ana!”Hecollapsesontopofme,hisheadburiedinmyneck.
Assanityreturns,IopenmyeyesandgazeupintothefaceofthemanIlove.
Christian’sexpressionissoft,tender.Hestrokeshisnoseagainstmine,
bearinghisweightonhiselbows,hishandsholdingminebythesideofmy
head.Sadly,Isuspectthat’ssoIdon’ttouchhim.Heplantsagentlekisson
mylipsasheeaseshimselfoutofme.
“I’vemissedthis,”hebreathes.
“Metoo,”Iwhisper.
Hetakesholdofmychinandkissesmehard.Apassionate,beseechingkiss,
askingforwhat?Idon’tknow.Itleavesmebreathless.
“Don’tleavemeagain,”heimplores,lookingdeepintomyeyes,hisface
serious.
“Okay,”Iwhisperandsmileathim.Hisansweringsmileisdazzling;relief,
elation,andboyishdelightcombinedintooneenchantinglookthatwould
meltthecoldestofhearts.
“ThankyoufortheiPad.”
“Youaremostwelcome,Anastasia.”
“What’syourfavouritesongonthere?”
“Nowthatwouldbetelling.”Hegrins.“Comecookmesomefood,wench.
I’mfamished,”headds,sittingupsuddenlyanddraggingmewithhim.
“Wench?”Igiggle.
“Wench.Food,now,please.”
“Sinceyouasksonicely,sire,I’llgetrightontoit.”
AsIscrambleoutofbed,Idislodgemypillow,revealingthedeflated
helicopterballoonunderneath.Christianreachesforitandgazesupatme,
puzzled.
“That’smyballoon,”Isay,feelingproprietaryasIreachformyrobeand
wrapitroundmyself.Ohjeez…whydidhehavetofindthat?
“Inyourbed?”hemurmurs.
“Yes,”Iflush.“It’sbeenkeepingmecompany.”
“LuckyCharlieTango,”hesays,insurprise.
Yes,I’msentimental,Grey,becauseIloveyou.
“Myballoon,”Isayagainandturnonmyheelandheadouttothekitchen,
leavinghimgrinningfromeartoear.
ChristianandIsitonKate’sPersianrug,eatingstir-frychickenandnoodles
fromwhitechinabowlswithchopsticksandsippingchilledwhitePinot
Grigio.Christianleansagainstthecouch,hislonglegsstretchedoutinfront
ofhim.He’swearinghisjeansandhisshirtwithhisjust-fuckedhair,and
that’sall.TheBuenaVistaSocialClubcroonssoftlyinthebackgroundfrom
Christian’siPod.
“Thisisgood,”hesaysappreciativelyashedigsintohisfood.
Isitcross-leggedbesidehim,eatinggreedily,beyondhungry,andadmirehis
nakedfeet.“Iusuallydoallthecooking.Kateisn’tagreatcook.”
“Didyouyourmotherteachyou?”
“Notreally,”Iscoff.“BythetimeIwasinterestedinlearning,mymomwas
livingwithHusbandNumberThreeinMansfield,Texas.AndRay,well,he
would’velivedontoastandtakeoutifitwasn’tforme.”
Christiangazesdownatme.“Youdidn’tstayinTexaswithyourmom?”
“No.Steve,herhusbandandI,wedidn’tgetalong.AndImissedRay.Her
marriagetoStevedidn’tlastlong.Shecametohersenses,Ithink.Shenever
talksabouthim,”Iaddquietly.Ithinkthat’sadarkpartofherlife,which
we’veneverdiscussed.
“SoyoucamebacktoWashingtontolivewithyourstepfather.”
“Yes.”
“Soundslikeyoulookedafterhim,”hesayssoftly.
“Isuppose.”Ishrug.
“You’reusedtotakingcareofpeople.”
Theedgeinhisvoiceattractsmyattention,andIglanceupathim.
“Whatisit?”Iask,startledbyhiswaryexpression.
“Iwanttotakecareofyou.”Hisluminouseyesglowwithsomeunnamed
emotion.
Myheartratespikes.
“I’venoticed,”Iwhisper.“Youjustgoaboutitinastrangeway.”
Hisbrowcreases.“It’stheonlywayIknowhow,”hesaysquietly.
“I’mstillmadatyouforbuyingSIP.”
Hesmiles.“Iknowbutyoubeingmad,baby,wouldn’tstopme.”
“WhatamIgoingtosaytomyworkcolleagues,toJack?”
Henarrowshiseyes.“Thatfuckerbetterwatchhimself.”
“Christian!”Iadmonish.“He’smyboss.”
Christian’smouthpressesintoahardline.Helookslikearecalcitrant
schoolboy.
“Don’ttellthem,”hesays.
“Don’ttellthemwhat?”
“ThatIownit.Theheadsofagreementwassignedyesterday.Thenewsis
embargoedforfourweekswhilethemanagementatSIPmakessome
changes.”
“Oh…willIbeoutofajob?”Iask,alarmed.
“Isincerelydoubtit,”Christiansayswryly,tryingtostiflehissmile.
Iscowl.“IfIleaveandfindanotherjob,willyoubuythatcompany,too?”
“You’renotthinkingofleaving,areyou?”Hisexpressionalters,waryonce
more.
“Possibly.I’mnotsureyou’vegivenmeagreatdealofchoice.”
“Yes,Iwillbuythatcompany,too.”Heisadamant.
Iscowlathimagain.Iaminano-winsituationhere.
“Don’tyouthinkyou’rebeingatadoverprotective?”
“Yes.Iamfullyawareofhowthislooks.”
“PagingDr.Flynn,”Imurmur.
Heputsdownhisemptybowlandgazesatmeimpassively.Isigh.Idon’t
wanttofight.
Standingup,Ireachforhisbowl.
“Wouldyoulikedessert?”
“Nowyou’retalking!”hesays,givingmealasciviousgrin.
“Notme.”Whynotme?Myinnergoddesswakesfromherdozeandsits
upright,allears.“Wehaveicecream.Vanilla.”Isnicker.
“Really?”Christian’sgringetsbigger.“Ithinkwecoulddosomethingwith
that.”
What?Istareathimdumbfoundedashegracefullygetstohisfeet.
“CanIstay?”heasks.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Thenight.”
“Iassumedthatyouwere.”Iflush.
“Good.Where’stheicecream?”
“Intheoven.”Ismilesweetlyathim.
Hecockshisheadtooneside,sighs,andshakeshisheadatme.“Sarcasmis
thelowestformofwit,MissSteele.”Hiseyesglitter.
Ohshit.What’sheplanning?
“Icouldstilltakeyouacrossmyknee.”
Iplacethebowlsinthesink.“Doyouhavethosesilverballthings?”
Hepatshishandsdownhischest,belly,andthepocketsofhisjeans.“Funnily
enough,Idon’tcarryasparesetaroundwithme.Notmuchcallforthemin
theoffice.”
“Iamverygladtohearit,Mr.Grey,andIthoughtyousaidthatsarcasmwas
thelowestformofwit.”
“Well,Anastasia,mynewmottoisifyoucan’tbeat‘em,join‘em.”
Igapeathim—Ican’tbelievehe’sjustsaidthat—andhelookssickeningly
pleasedwithhimselfashegrinsatme.Turning,heopensthefreezerand
takesoutthecartonofBen&Jerry’sfinestvanilla.
“Thiswilldojustfine.”Helooksupatme,eyesdark.“Ben&Jerry’s&
Ana.”Hesayseachwordslowly,enunciatingeverysyllableclearly.
Ohfuckingmy.Ithinkmylowerjawisonthefloor.Heopensthecutlery
drawerandgrabsaspoon.Whenhelooksup,hisareeyeshooded,andhis
tongueskimshistopteeth.
Oh,thattongue.
Ifeelwinded.Desire,dark,sleek,andwantonrunshotthroughmyveins.
We’regoingtohavefun,withfood.
“Ihopeyou’rewarm,”hewhispers.“I’mgoingtocoolyoudownwiththis.
Come.”Heholdsouthishand,andIplacemineinhis.
Inmybedroomheplacestheicecreamonmybedsidetable,pullstheduvet
offthebed,andremovesboththepillows,placingthemallinapileonthe
floor.
“Youhaveachangeofsheets,don’tyou?”
Inod,watchinghim,fascinated.HeholdsupCharlieTango.
“Don’tmesswithmyballoon,”Iwarn.
Hislipsquirkupwardinhalfasmile.“Wouldn’tdreamofit,baby,butIdo
wanttomesswithyouandthesesheets.”
Mybodypracticallyconvulses.
“Iwanttotieyouup.”
Oh.“Okay,”Iwhisper.
“Justyourhands.Tothebed.Ineedyoustill.”
“Okay,”Iwhisperagain,incapableofanythingmore.
Hestrollsovertome,nottakinghiseyesoffmine.
“We’llusethis.”Hetakesholdofmyrobesashandwithdelicious,teasing
slowness,releasesthebow,andgentlypullsitfreeofthegarment.
MyrobefallsopenwhileIstandparalyzedunderhisheatedgaze.Aftera
moment,hepushestherobeoffmyshoulders.Itfallsandpoolsatmyfeetso
thatI’mstandingnakedbeforehim.Hestrokesmyfacewiththebacksofhis
knuckles,andhistouchresonatesinthedepthsofmygroin.Bending,he
kissesmylipsbriefly.
“Lieonthebed,faceup,”hemurmurs,hiseyesdarkening,burningintomine.
IdoasI’mtold.Myroomisshroudedindarknessexceptforthesoft,insipid
lightfrommylamp.
Normally,Ihateenergy-savingbulbs—theyaresodim—butbeingnaked
here,withChristian,I’mgratefulforthemutedlight.Hestandsbythebed
gazingdownatme.
“Icouldlookatyouallday,Anastasia,”hesays,andwiththatcrawlsonto
thebed,upmybody,andstraddlesme.
“Armsaboveyourhead,”hecommands.
Icomplyandhefastenstheendofmyrobesashroundmyleftwristand
threadstheendthroughthemetalbarsattheheadofmybed.Hepullsittight
somyleftarmisflexedaboveme.Hethensecuresmyrighthand,tyingthe
sashtightly.
WhenI’mtied-up,staringathim,hevisiblyrelaxes.Helikesmetethered.I
can’ttouchhimthisway.Itoccurstomethatnoneofhissubswouldhave
touchedhimeither—andwhat’smore,theywouldneverhavetheopportunity
to.Hewouldhavealwaysbeenincontrolandatadistance.That’swhyhe
likeshisrules.
Heclimbsoffmeandbendstogivemeaquickpeckonthelips.Thenhe
standsandliftshisshirtoverhishead.Heundoeshisjeansanddropsthemto
thefloor.
Heisgloriouslynaked.Myinnergoddessisdoingatripleaxeldismountoff
theun-evenbars,andabruptlymymouthisdry.Hereallyisbeyondbeautiful.
Hehasaphysiquedrawnonclassicallines:broadmuscularshoulders,narrow
hips,theinvertedtriangle.Heobviouslyworksout.Icouldlookathimall
day.Hemovestotheendofthebedandgraspsmyankles,pullingmeswiftly
andsharplydownwardsothatmyarmsarestretchedoutandunabletomove.
“That’sbetter,”hemutters.
Pickingupthetuboficecream,heclimbssmoothlybackontothebedto
straddlemeoncemore.Veryslowly,hepeelsoffthelidofthetubanddips
thespoonin.
“Hmm…it’sstillquitehard,”hesayswitharaisedbrow.Scoopingouta
spoonfulofthevanilla,hepopsitintohismouth.“Delicious,”hemurmurs,
lickinghislips.“Amazinghowgoodplainoldvanillacantaste.”Hegazes
downatmeandsmirks.“Wantsome?”heteases.
Helookssofreakinghot,youngandcarefree—sittingonmeandeatingfrom
atuboficecream—eyesbright,faceluminous.Ohwhatthehellishegoing
todotome?AsifIcan’ttell.Inod,shyly.
Hescoopsoutanotherspoonfulandoffersmethespoon,soIopenmymouth,
thenhequicklypopsitinhismouthagain.
“Thisistoogoodtoshare,”hesays,smilingwickedly.
“Hey,”Istartinprotest.
“Why,MissSteele,doyoulikeyourvanilla?”
“Yes,”IsaymoreforcefullythanImeanandtryinvaintobuckhimoff.
Helaughs.“Gettingfeisty,arewe?Iwouldn’tdothatifIwereyou.”
“Icecream,”Iplead.
“Well,asyou’vepleasedmesomuchtoday,MissSteele.”Herelentsand
offersmeanotherspoonful.Thistimeheletsmeeatit.
Iwanttogiggle.He’sreallyenjoyinghimself,andhisgoodhumouris
infectious.Hescoopsanotherspoonfulandfeedsmesomemore,thenhedoes
itagain.Okay,enough.
“Hmm,well,thisisonewaytoensureyoueat—force-feedyou.Icouldget
usedtothis.“Takinganotherspoonful,heoffersmemore.ThistimeIkeep
mymouthshutandshakemyhead,andheletsitslowlymeltonthespoonso
thatthemeltedicecreamdrips,ontomythroat,ontomychest.Hedipsdown
andveryslowlylicksitoff.Mybodylightsupwithlonging.
“Mmm.Tastesevenbetteroffyou,MissSteele.”
Ipullagainstmyrestraintsandthebedcreaksominously,butIdon’tcare—
I’mburningwithdesire,it’sconsumingme.Hetakesanotherspoonfuland
letstheicecreamdribbleontomybreasts.Thenwiththebackofthespoon,
hespreadsitovereachbreastandnipple.
Oh…it’scold.Eachnipplepeaksandhardensbeneaththecoolofthevanilla.
“Cold?”Christianaskssoftlyandbendstolickandsucklealltheicecream
offmeoncemore,hismouthhotcomparedtothecooloftheice.
Ohmy.It’storture.Asitstartstomelt,theicecreamrunsoffmeinrivuletson
tothebed.Hislipscontinuetheirslowtorture,suckinghard,nuzzling,softly
—Ohplease!—I’mpanting.
“Wantsome?”AndbeforeIcanconfirmordenyhisoffer,histongueisinmy
mouth,andit’scoldandskilledandtastesofChristianandvanilla.Delicious.
AndjustasIamgettingusedtothesensation,hesitsupagainandtrailsa
spoonfuloficecreamdownthecentreofmybody,acrossmystomach,and
intomynavelwherehedepositsalargedollopoficecream.Oh,thisis
chillierthanbefore,butweirdlyitburns.
“Now,you’vedonethisbefore.”Christian’seyesshine.“You’regoingtohave
tostaystill,ortherewillbeicecreamalloverthebed.”Hekisseseachofmy
breastsandsuckseachofmynippleshard,thenfollowsthelineoficecream
downmybody,suckingandlickingashegoes.
AndItry,Itrytostaystilldespitetheheadycombinationofcoldandhis
inflamingtouch.Butmyhipsstarttomoveinvoluntarily,gyratingtotheir
ownrhythm,caughtupinhiscoolvanillaspell.Heshiftslowerandstarts
eatingtheicecreaminmybelly,swirlinghistongueintoandaroundmy
navel.
Imoan.Holycow.It’scold,it’shot,it’stantalizing,buthedoesn’tstop.He
trailstheicecreamfurtherdownmybody,intomypubichair,ontomy
clitoris.Icryout,loudly.
“Hushnow,”Christiansayssoftlyashismagicaltonguesetstoworklapping
upthevanilla,andnowI’mkeeningquietly.
“Oh…please…Christian.”
“Iknow,baby,Iknow,”hebreathesashistongueworksitsmagic.Hedoesn’t
stop,justdoesn’tstop,andmybodyisclimbing—higher,higher.Heslipsone
fingerinsideme,thenanotherandhemovesthemwithagonizingslownessin
andout.
“Justhere,”hemurmurs,andherhythmicallystrokesthefrontwallofmy
vaginawhilehecontinuestheexquisite,relentlesslickingandsucking.Holy
fuckingcow.
Ieruptunexpectedlyintoamind-blowingorgasmthatstunsallmysenses,
obliteratingallthat’shappeningoutsideofmybodyasIwritheandgroan.
Jeez,thatwassoquick.
Iamvaguelyawarethathehasstoppedhisministrations.He’shoveringover
me,slidingonacondom,andthenhe’sinsideme,hardandfast.
“Ohyes!”Hegroansasheslamsintome.He’ssticky—theresidualmelted
icecreamspreadingbetweenus.It’sastrangelydistractingsensation,butone
Ican’tdwellonformorethanafewsecondsasChristiansuddenlypullsout
ofmeandflipsmeover.
“Thisway,”hemurmursandabruptlyisinsidemeoncemore,buthedoesn’t
starthisusualpunishingrhythmstraightaway.Heleansover,releasesmy
hands,andpullsmeuprightsoIampracticallysittingonhim.Hishands
moveuptomybreasts,andhepalmsthemboth,tugginggentlyonmy
nipples.Igroan,tossingmyheadbackagainsthisshoulder.Henuzzlesmy
neck,bitingdown,asheflexeshiships,deliciouslyslowly,fillingmeagain
andagain.
“Doyouknowhowmuchyoumeantome?”hebreathesagainstmyear.
“No,”Igasp.
Hesmilesagainstmyneck,andhisfingerscurlaroundmyjawandthroat,
holdingmefastforamoment.
“Yes,youdo.I’mnotgoingtoletyougo.”
Igroanashepicksupspeed.
“Youaremine,Anastasia.”
“Yes,yours,”Ipant.
“Itakecareofwhat’smine,”hehissesandbitesmyear.
Icryout.
“That’sright,baby,Iwanttohearyou.”Hesnakesonehandaroundmywaist
whilehisotherhandgraspsmyhip,andhepushesintomeharder,makingme
cryoutagain.Andthepunishingrhythmstarts.Hisbreathinggrowsharsher
andharsher,ragged,matchingmine.
Ifeelthefamiliarquickeningdeepinside.Jeezagain!
Iamjustsensation.Thisiswhathedoestome—takesmybodyandpossesses
itwhollysothatIthinkofnothingbuthim.Hismagicispowerful,
intoxicating.I’mabutterflycaughtinhisnet,unableandunwillingtoescape.
I’mhis…totallyhis.
“Comeon,baby,”hegrowlsthroughgrittedteethandoncue,likethe
sorcerer’sapprenticeIam,Iletgo,andwefindourreleasetogether.
Iamlyingcurledupinhisarmsonstickysheets.Hisfrontispressedtomy
back,hisnoseinmyhair.
“WhatIfeelforyoufrightensme,”Iwhisper.
Hestills.“Metoo,baby,”hesaysquietly.
“Whatifyouleaveme?”Thethoughtishorrific.
“I’mnotgoinganywhere.Idon’tthinkIcouldeverhavemyfillofyou,
Anastasia.”
Iturnandgazeathim.Hisexpressionisserious,sincere.Ileanoverandkiss
himgently.Hesmilesandreachesuptotuckmyhairbehindmyear.
“I’veneverfeltthewayIfeltwhenyouleft,Anastasia.Iwouldmoveheaven
andearthtoavoidfeelinglikethatagain.”Hesoundssosad,dazedeven.
Ikisshimagain.Iwanttolightenourmoodsomehow,butChristiandoesit
forme.
“Willyoucomewithmetomyfather’ssummerpartytomorrow?It’san
annualcharitything.IsaidI’dgo.”
Ismile,feelingsuddenlyshy.
“OfcourseI’llcome.”Ohshit.Ihavenothingtowear.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tellme,”heinsists.
“Ihavenothingtowear.”
Christianlooksmomentarilyuncomfortable.
“Don’tbemad,butIstillhaveallthoseclothesforyouathome.Iamsure
thereareacoupleofdressesinthere.”
Ipursemylips.“Doyou,now?”Imutter,myvoicesardonic.Idon’twantto
fightwithhimtonight.Ineedashower.
ThegirlwholookslikemeisstandingoutsideSIP.Hangon—sheisme.Iam
paleandun-washed,andallmyclothesaretoobig;I’mstaringather,and
she’swearingmyclothes—
happy,healthy.
“WhatdoyouhavethatIdon’t?”Iaskher.
“Whoareyou?”
“I’mnobody…Whoareyou?Areyounobody,too…?”
“Thenthere’sapairofus—don’ttell,they’dbanishus,youknow…”1She
smiles,aslow,evilgrimacethatspreadsacrossherface,andit’ssochilling
thatIstarttoscream.
“Jesus,Ana!”Christianisshakingmeawake.
Iamsodisorientated.I’mathome…inthedark…inbedwithChristian.I
shakemyhead,tryingtoclearmymind.
“Baby,areyouokay?Youwerehavingabaddream.”
“Oh.”
Heswitchesonthelampsowe’rebathedinitsdimlight.Hegazesdownat
me,hisfaceetchedwithconcern.
“Thegirl,”Iwhisper.
“Whatisit?Whatgirl?”heaskssoothingly.
“TherewasagirloutsideSIPwhenIleftthisevening.Shelookedlikeme…
butnotreally.”
Christianstills,andasthelightfromthebedsidelampwarmsup,Iseehis
faceisashen.
“Whenwasthis?”hewhispers,dismayed.Hesitsup,staringdownatme.
“WhenIleftthisafternoon.Doyouknowwhosheis?”
“Yes.”Herunsahandthroughhishair.
“Who?”
Hismouthpressesintoahardline,buthesaysnothing.
“Who?”Ipress.
“It’sLeila.”
Iswallow.Theex-sub!IrememberChristiantalkingaboutherbeforewe
wentgliding.
Suddenly,he’sradiatingtension.Somethingisgoingon.
“Thegirlwhoput‘Toxic’onyouriPod?”
Heglancesatmeanxiously.
“Yes,”hesays.“Didshesayanything?”
“Shesaid,‘whatdoyouhavethatIdon’thave?’andwhenIaskedwhoshe
was,shesaid,‘nobody.’”
Christiancloseshiseyesasifinpain.Ohno.What’shappened?Whatdoes
shemeantohim?
Myscalppricklesasadrenalinespikesthroughmybody.Whatifshemeansa
lottohim?Perhapshemissesher?Iknowsolittleabouthispast…um,
relationships.Shemusthavehadacontract,andshewouldhavedonewhat
hewanted,givenhimwhatheneededgladly.
1EmilyDickinson,“I’mNobody!Whoareyou?”firststanza.
Ohno—whenIcan’t.Thethoughtmakesmenauseous.
Climbingoutofbed,Christiandragsonhisjeansandheadsintothemain
room.Aglanceatmyalarmclockshowsit’sfiveinthemorning.Irolloutof
bed,puttinghiswhiteshirton,andfollowhim.
Holyshit,he’sonthephone.
“Yes,outsideSIP,yesterday…earlyevening,”hesaysquietly.Heturnstome
asImovetowardthekitchenandasksmedirectly,“Whattimeexactly?”
“Abouttentosix?”Imumble.Whoonearthishecallingatthishour?What’s
Leiladone?Herelaystheinformationtowhoever’sontheline,nottakinghis
eyesoffme,hisexpressiondarkandearnest.
“Findouthow…Yes…Iwouldn’thavesaidso,butthenIwouldn’thave
thoughtshecoulddothis.”Hecloseshiseyesasifhe’sinpain.“Idon’tknow
howthatwillgodown…Yes,I’lltalktoher…Yes…Iknow…Followit
upandletmeknow.Justfindher,Welch—she’sintrouble.Findher.”He
hangsup.
“Doyouwantsometea?”Iask.Tea,Ray’sanswertoeverycrisisandtheonly
thinghedoeswellinthekitchen.Ifillthekettlewithwater.
“Actually,I’dliketogobacktobed.”Hislooktellsmethatit’snottosleep.
“Well,Ineedsometea.Wouldyouliketojoinmeforacup?”Iwanttoknow
what’sgoingon.Iwillnotbeside-trackedbysex.
Herunshishandthroughhishairinexasperation.“Yes,please,”hesays,butI
cantellhe’sirritated.
Iputthekettleonthestoveandbusymyselfwithteacupsandtheteapot.My
anxietylevelhasshottodefconone.Ishegoingtotellmetheproblem?Or
amIgoingtohavetodig?Isensehiseyesonme—sensehisuncertainty,and
hisangerispalpable.Iglanceup,andhiseyesglitterwithapprehension.
“Whatisit?”Iasksoftly.
Heshakeshishead.
“You’renotgoingtotellme?”
Hesighsandcloseshiseyes.“No.”
“Why?”
“Becauseitshouldn’tconcernyou.Idon’twantyoutangledupinthis.”
“Itshouldn’tconcernme,butitdoes.Shefoundmeandaccostedmeoutside
myoffice.
Howdoessheknowaboutme?HowdoessheknowwhereIwork?IthinkI
havearighttoknowwhat’sgoingon.”
Herunsahandthroughhishairagain,radiatingfrustrationasifwagingsome
internalbattle.
“Please?”Iasksoftly.
Hismouthsetsintoahardline,andherollshiseyesatme.
“Okay,”hesays,resigned.“Ihavenoideahowshefoundyou.Maybethe
photographofusinPortland,Idon’tknow.”Hesighsagain,andIsensehis
frustrationisdirectedathimself.
Iwaitpatiently,pouringboilingwaterintotheteapotashepacesbackand
forth.Afterabeathecontinues.
“WhileIwaswithyouinGeorgia,Leilaturnedupatmyapartment
unannouncedandmadeasceneinfrontofGail.”
“Gail?”
“Mrs.Jones.”
“Whatdoyoumean,‘madeascene’?”
Heglaresatme,appraising.
“Tellme.You’rekeepingsomethingback.”MytoneismoreforcefulthanI
feel.
Heblinksatme,surprised.“Ana,I—”hestops.
“Please?”
Hesighsindefeat.“Shemadeahaphazardattempttoopenavein.”
“Ohno!”Thatexplainsthebandageonherwrist.
“Gailgothertohospital.ButLeiladischargedherselfbeforeIcouldget
there.”
Crap.Whatdoesthismean?Suicidal?Why?
“Theshrinkwhosawhercalleditatypicalcryforhelp.Hedidn’tbelieveher
tobetrulyatrisk—onestepfromsuicidalideation,hecalledit.ButI’mnot
convinced.I’vebeentryingtotrackherdownsincethentogethersome
help.”
“DidshesayanythingtoMrs.Jones?”
Hegazesatme.Helooksreallyuncomfortable.
“Notmuch,”hesayseventually,butIknowhe’snottellingmeeverything.
Idistractmyselfwithpouringteaintoteacups.SoLeilawantsbackinto
Christian’slifeandchoosesasuicideattempttoattracthisattention?Whoa…
scary.Buteffective.
ChristianleftGeorgiatobeatherside,butshedisappearsbeforehegets
there?Howodd.
“Youcan’tfindher?Whataboutherfamily?”
“Theydon’tknowwheresheis.Neitherdoesherhusband.”
“Husband?”
“Yes,”hesaysdistractedly,“she’sbeenmarriedforabouttwoyears.”
What?“Soshewaswithyouwhileshewasmarried?”Holyfuck.Hereally
hasnoboundaries.
“No!GoodGod,no.Shewaswithmenearlythreeyearsago.Thensheleft
andmarriedthisguyshortlyafterward.”
Oh.“Sowhyisshetryingtogetyourattentionnow?”
Heshakeshisheadsadly.“Idon’tknow.Allwe’vemanagedtofindoutis
thatsheranoutonherhusbandaboutfourmonthsago.”
“Letmegetthisstraight.Shehasn’tbeenyoursubmissiveforthreeyears?”
“Abouttwoandahalfyears.”
“Andshewantedmore.”
“Yes.”
“Butyoudidn’t?”
“Youknowthis.”
“Sosheleftyou.”
“Yes.”
“Sowhyisshecomingtoyounow?”
“Idon’tknow.”Andthetoneofthisvoicetellsmethatheatleasthasa
theory.
“Butyoususpect…”
Hiseyesnarrowperceptiblywithanger.“Isuspectithassomethingtodowith
you.”
Me?Whatwouldshewantwithme?“WhatdoyouhavethatIdon’t?”
IstareatFifty,magnificentlynakedfromthewaistup.Ihavehim;he’smine.
That’swhatIhave,andyetshelookedlikeme:samedarkhairandpaleskin.
Ifrownatthethought.Yes…whatdoIhavethatshedoesn’t?
“Whydidn’tyoutellmeyesterday?”heaskssoftly.
“Iforgotabouther.”Ishrugapologetically.“Youknow,drinksafterwork,at
theendofmyfirstweek.Youturningupatthebarandyour…testosterone
rushwithJack,andthenwhenwewerehere.Itslippedmymind.Youhavea
habitofmakingmeforgetthings.”
“Testosteronerush?”Hislipstwitch.
“Yes.Thepissingcontest.”
“I’llshowyouatestosteronerush.”
“Wouldn’tyouratherhaveacupoftea?”
“No,Anastasia,Iwouldn’t.”
Hiseyesburnintome,scorchingmewithhisI-want-you-and-I-want-you-
nowlook.
Fuck…it’ssohot.
“Forgetabouther.Come.”Heholdsouthishand.
MyinnergoddessdoesthreebackflipsoverthegymfloorasIgrasphishand.
Iwake,toowarm,andI’mwrappedaroundanakedChristianGrey.Even
thoughhe’sfastasleep,he’sholdingmeclose.Softmorninglightfilters
throughthecurtains.Myheadisonhischest,mylegtangledwithhis,my
armacrosshisstomach.
Iraisemyheadslightly,scaredthatImightwakehim.Helookssoyoung,so
relaxedinsleep,soutterlybeautiful.Ican’tquitebelievethisAdonisismine,
allmine.
Hmm…Reachingup,Itentativelystrokehischest,runningmyfingertips
throughthesmatteringofhair,andhedoesn’tstir.Holycow.Ican’tquite
believeit.He’sreallymine—
forafewmorepreciousmoments.Ileanoverandtenderlykissoneofhis
scars.Hemoanssoftlybutdoesn’twake,andIsmile.Ikissanotherandhis
eyesopen.
“Hi.”Igrinathim,guiltily.
“Hi,”heanswerswarily.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Lookingatyou.”Irunmyfingersdownhishappytrail.Hecapturesmy
hand,narrowshiseyes,thensmilesabrilliantChristian-at-easesmile,andI
relax.Mysecrettouchingstayssecret.
Oh…whywon’tyouletmetouchyou?
Suddenlyhemovesontopofme,pressingmeintothemattress,hishandson
mine,warningme.Hestrokesmynosewithhis.
“Ithinkyou’reuptonogood,MissSteele,”heaccusesbuthissmileremains.
“Ilikebeinguptonogoodnearyou.”
“Youdo?”heasksandkissesmelightlyonthelips.“Sexorbreakfast?”he
asks,hiseyesdarkbutfullofhumour.Hiserectionisdiggingintome,andI
tiltmypelvisuptomeethim.“Goodchoice,”hemurmursagainstmythroat,
ashetrailskissesdowntomybreast.
Istandatmychestofdrawers,staringatmymirror,tryingtocoaxmyhair
intosomesemblanceofstyle—really,it’sjusttoolong.I’minjeansandaT-
shirt,andChristian,freshlyshowered,isdressingbehindme.Igazeathis
bodyhungrily.
“Howoftendoyouworkout?”Iask.
“Everyweekday,”hesays,buttoninghisfly.
“Whatdoyoudo?”
“Run,weights,kickbox.”Heshrugs.
“Kickbox?”
“Yes,Ihaveapersonaltrainer,anex-Olympiccontenderwhoteachesme.His
nameisClaude.He’sverygood.You’dlikehim.”
Iturntogazeathimashestartstobuttonuphiswhiteshirt.
“WhatdoyoumeanI’dlikehim?”
“You’dlikehimasatrainer.”
“WhywouldIneedapersonaltrainer?Ihaveyoutokeepmefit.”Ismirkat
him.
Hesauntersoverandwrapshisarmsaroundme,hisdarkeningeyesmeeting
mineinthemirror.
“ButIwantyoufit,baby,forwhatIhaveinmind.I’llneedyoutokeepup.”
Iflushasmemoriesoftheplayroomfloodmymind.Yes…theRedRoomof
Painisexhausting.Ishegoingtoletmebackinthere?DoIwanttogoback
in?
Ofcourseyoudo!Myinnergoddessscreamsatmefromherchaiselongue.
Istareintohisunfathomable,mesmerizinggreyeyes.
“Youknowyouwantto,”hemouthsatme.
Iflush,andtheundesirablethoughtthatLeilacouldprobablykeepupslithers
invidiousandunwelcomeintomymind.Ipressmylipstogetherand
Christianfrownsatme.
“What?”heasks,concerned.
“Nothing.”Ishakemyheadathim.“Okay,I’llmeetClaude.”
“Youwill?”Christian’sfacelightsupinastoundeddisbelief.Hisexpression
makesmesmileHelookslikehe’swonthelottery,thoughChristian’s
probablyneverevenboughtaticket—hehasnoneed.
“Yes,jeez—ifitmakesyouthathappy,”Iscoff.
Hetightenshisarmsaroundmeandkissesmycheek.“Youhavenoidea,”he
whispers.
“So—whatwouldyouliketodotoday?”Henuzzlesme,sendingdelicious
tinglesthroughmybody.
“I’dliketogetmyhaircut,andum…Ineedtobankacheckandbuyacar.”
“Ah,”hesaysknowinglyandbiteshislip.Takingonehandoffme,hereaches
intohisjeanspocketandholdsupthekeytomylittleAudi.
“It’shere,”hesaysquietly,hisexpressionuncertain.
“Whatdoyoumean,it’shere?”Boy.Isoundangry.Crap.Iamangry.My
subconsciousglaresathim.Howdarehe!
“Taylorbroughtitbackyesterday.”
Iopenmymouththencloseitandrepeattheprocesstwice,butIhavebeen
renderedspeechless.He’sgivingmebackthecar.Doublecrap.Whydidn’tI
foreseethis?Well,twocanplayatthatgame.Ifishinthebackpocketofmy
jeansandpullouttheenvelopewithhischeck.
“Here,thisisyours.”
Christianlooksatmequizzically,thenrecognizingtheenvelope,raisesboth
hishandsandstepsawayfromme.
“Ohno.That’syourmoney.”
“No,itisn’t.I’dliketobuythecarfromyou.”
Hisexpressionchangescompletely.Fury—yes,fury—sweepsacrosshisface.
“No,Anastasia.Yourmoney,yourcar,”hesnapsatme.
“No,Christian.Mymoney,yourcar.I’llbuyitfromyou.”
“Igaveyouthatcarforyourgraduationpresent.”
“Ifyou’dgivenmeapen—thatwouldbeasuitablegraduationpresent.You
gavemeanAudi.”
“Doyoureallywanttoargueaboutthis?”
“No.”
“Good—herearethekeys.”Heputsthemonthechestofdrawers.
“That’snotwhatImeant!”
“Endofdiscussion,Anastasia.Don’tpushme.”
Iscowlathim,theninspirationhitsme.Takingtheenvelope,Iripitintwo,
thentwoagainanddropthecontentsintomywastebin.Oh,thatfeelsgood.
Christiangazesatmeimpassively,butIknowI’vejustlitthebluetouch
paperandshouldstandwellback.Hestrokeshischin.
“Youare,asever,challenging,MissSteele,”hesaysdryly.Heturnsonhis
heelandstalksintotheotherroom.ThatisnotthereactionIexpected.Iwas
anticipatingfullscaleArmageddon.Istareatmyselfinthemirrorandshrug,
decidingonaponytail.
Mycuriosityispiqued.WhatisFiftydoing?Ifollowhimintotheroom,and
he’sonthephone.
“Yes,twenty-fourthousanddollars.Directly.”
Heglancesupatme,stillimpassive.
“Good…Monday?Excellent…Nothat’sall,Andrea.”
Hesnapsthephoneshut.
“Depositedinyourbankaccount,Monday.Don’tplaygameswithme.”He’s
boilingmad,butIdon’tcare.
“Twenty-fourthousanddollars!”I’malmostscreaming.“Andhowdoyou
knowmyaccountnumber?”
MyiretakesChristianbysurprise.
“Iknoweverythingaboutyou,Anastasia,”hesaysquietly.
“There’snowaymycarwasworthtwenty-fourthousanddollars.”
“Iwouldagreewithyou,butit’saboutknowingyourmarket,whetheryou’re
buyingorselling.Somelunaticouttherewantedthatdeathtrapandwas
willingtopaythatamountofmoney.Apparently,it’saclassic.AskTaylorif
youdon’tbelieveme.”
Iglowerathimandheglowersback,twoangrystubbornfoolsglaringateach
other.
AndIfeelit,thepull—theelectricitybetweenus—tangible,drawingus
together.Suddenlyhegrabsmeandpushesmeupagainstthedoor,hismouth
onmine,claimingmehungrily,onehandonmybehindpressingmetohis
groinandtheotherinthenapeofmyhair,tuggingmyheadback.Myfingers
areinhishair,twistinghard,holdinghimtome.Hegrindshisbodyinto
mine,imprisoningme,hisbreathingragged.Ifeelhim.Hewantsme,andI’m
headyandreelingwithexcitementasIacknowledgehisneedforme.
“Why,whydoyoudefyme?”hemumblesbetweenhisheatedkisses.
Mybloodsingsinmyveins.Willhealwayshavethiseffectonme?AndIon
him?
“BecauseIcan.”I’mbreathless.Ifeelratherthanseehissmileagainstmy
neck,andhepresseshisforeheadtomine.
“Lord,Iwanttotakeyounow,butI’moutofcondoms.Icanneverget
enoughofyou.
You’reamaddening,maddeningwoman.”
“Andyoumakememad,”Iwhisper.“Ineveryway.”
Heshakeshishead.“Come.Let’sgooutforbreakfast.AndIknowaplace
youcangetyourhaircut.”
“Okay,”Iacquiesceandjustlikethat,ourfightisover.
“I’llgetthis.”Ipickupthetabforbreakfastbeforehedoes.
Hescowlsatme.
“Youhavetobequickaroundhere,Grey.”
“You’reright,Ido,”hesayssourly,thoughIthinkhe’steasing.
“Don’tlooksocross.I’mtwenty-fourthousanddollarsricherthanIwasthis
morning.Icanafford”—Iglanceatthecheck—“twenty-twodollarsand
sixty-sevencentsforbreakfast.”
“Thankyou,”hesaysgrudgingly.Oh,thesulkyschoolboyisback.
“Wheretonow?”
“Youreallywantyourhaircut?”
“Yes,lookatit.”
“Youlooklovelytome.Youalwaysdo.”
Iblushandstaredownatmyfingersknottedinmylap.“Andthere’syour
father’sfunctionthisevening.”
“Remember,it’sblacktie.”
OhJeez.“Whereisit?”
“Atmyparents’house.Theyhaveamarquee.Youknow,theworks.”
“What’sthecharity?”
Christianrubshishandsdownhisthighs,lookinguncomfortable.
“It’sadrugrehabprogramforparentswithyoungkidscalledCoping
Together.”
“Soundslikeagoodcause,”Isaysoftly.
“Come,let’sgo.”Hestands,effectivelyhaltingthattopicofconversationand
holdsouthishand.AsItakeit,hetightenshisfingersaroundmine.
It’sstrange.He’ssodemonstrativeinsomewaysandyetsoclosedinothers.
Heleadsmeoutoftherestaurant,andwewalkdownthestreet.Itisalovely,
mildmorning.Thesunisshining,andtheairsmellsofcoffeeandfreshly
bakedbread.
“Wherearewegoing?”
“Surprise.”
Oh,okay.Idon’treallylikesurprises.
Wewalkfortwoblocks,andthestoresbecomedecidedlymoreexclusive.I
haven’tyethadanopportunitytoexplore,butthisreallyisjustaroundthe
cornerfromwhereIlive.Katewillbepleased.Thereareplentyofsmall
boutiquestofeedherfashionpassion.
Actually,Ineedtobuysomefloatyskirtsforwork.
Christianstopsoutsidealarge,slick-lookingbeautysalonandopensthedoor
forme.
It’scalledEsclava.Theinteriorisallwhiteandleather.Atthestarkwhite
receptiondesksitsayoungblondwomaninacrispwhiteuniform.She
glancesupasweenter.
“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey,”shesaysbrightly,colourrisinginhercheeksas
shebatshereyelashesathim.It’stheGreyeffect,butsheknowshim!How?
“HelloGreta.”
Andheknowsher.Whatisthis?
“Isthistheusual,sir?”sheaskspolitely.She’swearingverypinklipstick.
“No,”hesaysquickly,withanervousglanceatme.
Theusual?Whatdoesthatmean?
Holyfuck!It’sRuleno6,thedamnedbeautysalon.Allthewaxingnonsense
…shit!
Thisiswherehebroughtallhissubs?MaybeLeila,too?WhatthehellamI
supposedtomakeofthis?
“MissSteelewilltellyouwhatshewants.”
Iglareathim.He’sintroducingtheRulesbystealth.I’veagreedtothe
personaltrainer—andnowthis?
“Whyhere?”Ihissathim.
“Iownthisplace,andthreemorelikeit.”
“Youownit?”Igaspinsurprise.Well,that’sunexpected.
“Yes.It’sasideline.Anyway—whateveryouwant,youcanhaveithere,on
thehouse.
Allsortsofmassage;Swedish,shiatsu,hotstones,reflexology,seaweed
baths,facials,allthatstuffthatwomenlike—everything.It’sdonehere.”He
waveshislong-fingeredhanddismissively.
“Waxing?”
Helaughs.“Yeswaxing,too.Everywhere,”hewhispersconspiratorially,
enjoyingmydiscomfort.
IblushandglanceatGreta,whoislookingatmeexpectantly.
“I’dlikeahaircut,please.”
“Certainly,MissSteele.”
GretaisallpinklipstickandbustlingGermanicefficiencyasshechecksher
computerscreen.
“Francoisfreeinfiveminutes.”
“Franco’sfine,”saysChristianreassuringlytome.Iamtryingtowrapmy
headaroundthis.ChristianGreyCEOownsachainofbeautysalons.
Ipeekupathim,andsuddenlyheblanches—something,orsomeone,has
caughthiseye.Iturntoseewherehe’slooking,andrightatthebackofthe
salonasleekplatinumblondehasappeared,closingadoorbehindherand
speakingtooneofthehairstylists.
PlatinumBlondeistall,tanned,lovely,andinherlatethirtiesorforties—it’s
difficulttotell.She’swearingthesameuniformasGreta,butinblack.She
looksstunning.Herhairshineslikeahalo,cutinsharpbob.Assheturns,she
catchessightofChristianandsmilesathim,adazzlingsmileofwarm
recognition.
“Excuseme,”Christianmumbleshurriedly.
Hestridesquicklythroughthesalon,pastthehairstylistsallinwhite,pastthe
apprenticesatthesinks,andovertoher,toofarawayformetoheartheir
conversation.PlatinumBlondegreetshimwithobviousaffection,kissing
bothhischeeks,herhandsrestingonhisupperarms,andtheytalkanimatedly
together.
“MissSteele?”
Gretathereceptionististryingtogetmyattention.
“Hangonamoment,please.”IwatchChristian,fascinated.
PlatinumBlondeturnsandlooksatme,andgivesmethesamedazzling
smile,asifsheknowsme.Ismilepolitelyback.
Christianlooksupsetaboutsomething.He’sreasoningwithher,andshe’s
acquiescing,holdingherhandsupandsmilingathim.He’ssmilingather—
clearlytheyknoweachotherwell.Perhapsthey’veworkedtogetherforalong
time?Maybesherunstheplace;afterall,shehasacertainlookofauthority.
Thenithitsmelikeawreckingball,andIknow,deepdowninmygutona
viscerallevel,Iknowwhoitis.It’sher.Stunning,older,beautiful.
It’sMrs.Robinson.
“Greta,whoisMr.Greytalkingto?”Myscalpistryingtoleavethebuilding.
It’spricklingwithapprehension,andmysubconsciousisscreamingatmeto
followit.ButIsoundnonchalantenough.
“Oh,that’sMrs.Lincoln.SheownstheplacewithMr.Grey.”Gretaseems
morethanhappytoshare.
“Mrs.Lincoln?”IthoughtMrs.Robinsonwasdivorced.Perhapsshe’s
remarriedtosomepoorsap.
“Yes.She’snotusuallyhere,butoneofourtechniciansissicktodaysoshe’s
fillingin.”
“DoyouknowMrs.Lincoln’sfirstname?”
Gretalooksupatme,frowning,andpursesherbrightpinklips,questioning
mycuriosity.Shit,perhapsthisisasteptoofar.
“Elena,”shesays,almostreluctantly.
I’mswampedbyastrangesenseofreliefthatmyspideysensehasnotletme
down.
Spideysense?Mysubconscioussnorts,Paedosense.
Theyarestilldeepindiscussion.ChristianistalkingrapidlytoElena,andshe
looksworried,nodding,grimacing,andshakingherhead.Reachingout,she
rubshisarmsoothinglywhilebitingherlip.Anothernod,andsheglancesat
meandoffersmeasmallreassuringsmile.
Icanonlystareatherstony-faced.IthinkI’minshock.Howcouldhebring
mehere?
ShemurmurssomethingtoChristian,andhelooksmywaybrieflythenturns
backtoherandreplies.Shenods,andIthinkshe’swishinghimluck,butmy
lip-readingskillsaren’thighlydeveloped.
Fiftystridesbacktome,anxietyetchedonhisface.Damnright.Mrs.
Robinsonreturnstothebackroom,closingthedoorbehindher.
Christianfrowns.“Areyouokay?”heasks,buthisvoiceisstrained,cautious.
“Notreally.Youdidn’twanttointroduceme?”Myvoicesoundscold,hard.
Hismouthdropsopen,helooksasifI’vepulledtherugfromunderhisfeet.
“ButIthought—”
“Forabrightman,sometimes…”Wordsfailme.“I’dliketogo,please.”
“Why?”
“Youknowwhy.”Irollmyeyes.
Hegazesdownatme,hiseyesburning.
“I’msorry,Ana.Ididn’tknowshe’dbehere.She’sneverhere.She’sopened
anewbranchattheBravernCentre,andthat’swhereshe’snormallybased.
Someonewassicktoday.”
Iturnonmyheelandheadforthedoor.
“Wewon’tneedFranco,Greta,”Christiansnapsasweheadoutofthedoor.I
havetosuppresstheimpulsetorun.Iwanttorunfastandfaraway.Ihavean
overwhelmingurgetocry.Ijustneedtogetawayfromallthisfuckedupness.
ChristianwalkswordlesslybesidemeasItrytomullallthisoverinmyhead.
Wrappingmyarmsprotectivelyaroundmyself,Ikeepmyheaddown,
avoidingthetreesonSecondAvenue.Wisely,hemakesnomovetotouchme.
Mymindisboilingwithunansweredquestions.WillMr.Evasivefessup?
“Youusedtotakeyoursubsthere?”Isnap.
“Someofthem,yes,”hesaysquietly,histoneclipped.
“Leila?”
“Yes.”
“Theplacelooksverynew.”
“It’sbeenrefurbishedrecently.”
“Isee.SoMrs.Robinsonmetallyoursubs.”
“Yes.”
“Didtheyknowabouther?”
“No.Noneofthemdid.Onlyyou.”
“ButI’mnotyoursub.”
“No,youmostdefinitelyarenot.”
Istopandfacehim.Hiseyesarewide,fearful.Hislipsarepressedintoa
hard,uncompromisingline.
“Canyouseehowfucked-upthisis?”Iglareupathim,myvoicelow.
“Yes.I’msorry.”Andhehasthegracetolookcontrite.
“Iwanttogetmyhaircut,preferablysomewherewhereyouhaven’tfucked
eitherthestaffortheclientele.”
Heflinches.
“Now,ifyou’llexcuseme.”
“You’renotrunning.Areyou?”heasks.
“No,Ijustwantadamnhaircut.SomewhereIcanclosemyeyes,have
someonewashmyhair,andforgetaboutallthisbaggagethataccompanies
you.”
Herunshishandthroughhishair.“IcanhaveFrancocometotheapartment,
oryourplace,”hesaysquietly.
“She’sveryattractive.”
Heblinks.“Yes,sheis.”
“Isshestillmarried?”
“No.Shedivorcedaboutfiveyearsago.”
“Whyaren’tyouwithher?”
“Becausethat’soverbetweenus.I’vetoldyouthis.”Hisbrowcreases
suddenly.Holdinghisfingerup,hefisheshisBlackberryoutofhisjacket
pocket.ItmustbevibratingbecauseIdon’thearitring.
“Welch,”hesnaps,thenlistens.WearestandingonSecondAvenue,andI
gazeinthedirectionofthelarchsaplinginfrontofme,itsleavesthenewest
green.
Peoplebustlepastus,lostintheirSaturdaymorningchores.Nodoubt
contemplatingtheirownpersonaldramas.Iwonderiftheyincludestalkerex-
submissives,stunningex-Dommes,andamanwhohasnoconceptofprivacy
underUnitedStateslaw.
“Killedinacarcrash?When?”Christianinterruptsmyreverie.
Ohno.Who?Ilistenmoreclosely.
“That’stwicethatbastard’snotbeenforthcoming.Hemustknow.Doeshe
havenofeelingsforherwhatsoever?”Christianshakeshisheadindisgust.
“Thisisbeginningtomakesense…no…explainswhy,butnotwhere.”
Christianglancesaroundusasifsearchingforsomething,andIfindmyself
mirroringhisactions.Nothingcatchesmyeye.
Therearejusttheshoppers,thetraffic,andthetrees.
“She’shere,”Christiancontinues.“She’swatchingus…Yes…No.Twoor
four,twenty-fourseven…Ihaven’tbroachedthatyet.”Christianlooksatme
directly.
Broachedwhat?Ifrown,athimandheregardsmewarily.
“What…,”hewhispersandpales,hiseyeswidening.“Isee.When?…That
recently?Buthow?…Nobackgroundchecks?…Isee.E-mailthename,
address,andphotosifyouhavethem…twenty-fourseven,fromthis
afternoon.LiaisewithTaylor.”Christianhangsup.
“Well?”Iask,exasperated.Ishegoingtotellme?
“ThatwasWelch.”
“Who’sWelch?”
“Mysecurityadvisor.”
“Okay.Sowhat’shappened?”
“Leilaleftherhusbandaboutthreemonthsagoandranoffwithaguywho
waskilledinacaraccidentfourweeksago.”
“Oh.”
“Theassholeshrinkshouldhavefoundthatout,”hesaysangrily.“Grief,
that’swhatthisis.Come.”Heholdsouthishand,andIautomaticallyplace
mineinhisbeforeIsnatchitawayagain.
“Waitaminute.Wewereinthemiddleofadiscussion,aboutus.Abouther,
yourMrs.
Robinson.”
Christian’sfacehardens.“She’snotmyMrs.Robinson.Wecantalkaboutit
atmyplace.”
“Idon’twanttogotoyourplace.Iwanttogetmyhaircut!”Ishout.IfIcan
justfocusonthisonething…
HegrabshisBlackberryfromhispocketagainanddialsanumber.“Greta,
ChristianGrey.IwantFrancoatmyplaceinanhour.AskMrs.Lincoln…
Good.”Heputshisphoneaway.“He’scomingatone.”
“Christian…!”Isplutter,exasperated.
“Anastasia,Leilaisobviouslysufferingapsychoticbreak.Idon’tknowifit’s
youormeshe’safter,orwhatlengthsshe’spreparedtogoto.We’llgoto
yourplace,pickupyourthings,andyoucanstaywithmeuntilwe’vetracked
herdown.”
“WhywouldIwanttodothat?”
“SoIcankeepyousafe.”
“But—”
Heglaresatme.“YouarecomingbacktomyapartmentifIhavetodragyou
therebyyourhair.”
Igapeathim…thisisbeyondbelief.FiftyShadesinGloriousTechnicolor.
“Ithinkyou’reoverreacting.”
“Idon’t.Wecancontinueourdiscussionbackatmyplace.Come.”
Ifoldmyarmsandglareathim.Thishasgonetoofar.
“No,”Istatestubbornly.Ihavetomakeastand.
“YoucanwalkorIcancarryyou.Idon’tmindeitherway,Anastasia.”
“Youwouldn’tdare.”Iscowlathim.Surelyhewouldn’tmakeasceneon
SecondAvenue?
Hehalfsmilesatme,butthesmiledoesn’treachhiseyes.
“Oh,baby,webothknowthatifyouthrowdownthegauntletI’llbeonlytoo
happytopickitup.”
Weglareateachother—andabruptlyhesweepsdown,claspsmeroundmy
thighs,andliftsme.BeforeIknowit,Iamoverhisshoulder.
“Putmedown!”Iscream.Oh,itfeelsgoodtoscream.
HestartsstridingalongSecondAvenue,ignoringme.Claspinghisarmfirmly
aroundmythighs,heswatsmybehindwithhisfreehand.
“Christian!”Ishout.Peoplearestaring.Couldthisbeanymorehumiliating?
“I’llwalk!I’llwalk.”
Heputsmedown,andbeforehe’sevenstoodupright,Istompoffinthe
directionofmyapartment,seething,ignoringhim.Ofcourse,he’sbymyside
inmoments,butIcontinuetoignorehim.WhatamIgoingtodo?Iamso
angry,butI’mnotevensurewhatIamangryabout—there’ssomuch.
AsIstalkbackhome,Imakeamentallist:
1.Shouldercarrying—unacceptableforanyoneovertheageofsix.
2.Takingmetothesalonthatheownswithhisex-lover—howstupidcanhe
be?
3.Thesameplacehetookhissubmissives—samestupidityatworkhere.
4.Notevenrealizingthatthiswasabadidea—andhe’ssupposedtobea
brightguy.
5.Havingcrazyex-girlfriends.CanIblamehimforthat?Iamsofurious;yes,
Ican.
6.Knowingmybankaccountnumber—that’sjusttoostalkerybyhalf.
7.BuyingSIP—he’sgotmoremoneythansense.
8.InsistingIstaywithhim—thethreatfromLeilamustbeworsethanhe
feared…
hedidn’tmentionthatyesterday.
Ohno,realizationdawns.Something’schanged.Whatcouldthatbe?Ihalt,
andChristianhaltswithme.“What’shappened?”Idemand.
Heknitshisbrow.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“WithLeila.”
“I’vetoldyou.”
“No,youhaven’t.There’ssomethingelse.Youdidn’tinsistthatIgotoyour
placeyesterday.Sowhat’shappened?”
Heshiftsuncomfortably.
“Christian!Tellme!”Isnap.
“Shemanagedtoobtainaconcealedweaponspermityesterday.”
Ohshit.Igazeathim,blinking,andfeeltheblooddrainingfrommyfaceasI
absorbthisnews.Imayfaint.Supposeshewantstokillhim?No.
“Thatmeansshecanjustbuyagun,”Iwhisper.
“Ana,”hesays,hisvoicefullofconcern.Heplaceshishandsonmy
shoulders,pullingmeclosetohim.“Idon’tthinkshe’lldoanythingstupid,
but—Ijustdon’twanttotakethatriskwithyou.”
“Notme…whataboutyou?”Iwhisper.
Hefrownsdownatme,andIwrapmyarmsaroundhimandhughimhard,
myfaceagainsthischest.Hedoesn’tseemtomind.
“Let’sgetback,”hemurmurs,andhereachesdownandkissesmyhair,and
that’sit.
Allmyfuryisgone,butnotforgotten.Dissipatedunderthethreatofsome
harmcomingtoChristian.Thethoughtisunbearable.
SolemnlyIpackasmallcaseandplacemyMac,theBlackberry,myiPad,and
CharlieTangoinmybackpack.
“CharlieTango’scoming,too?”Christianasks.
Inodandhegivesmeasmall,indulgentsmile.
“EthanisbackTuesday,”Imutter.
“Ethan?”
“Kate’sbrother.He’sstayinghereuntilhefindsaplaceinSeattle.”
Christiangazesatmeblankly,butInoticethefrostinesscreepintohiseyes.
“Well,it’sgoodthatyou’llbestayingwithme.Givehimmoreroom,”hesays
quietly.
“Idon’tknowthathe’sgotkeys.I’llneedtobebackthen.”
Christiangazesatmeimpassivelybutsaysnothing.
“That’severything.”
Hegrabsmycase,andweheadoutthedoor.Aswewalkaroundtotheback
ofthebuildingtotheparkinglot,I’mawarethatIamlookingovermy
shoulder.Idon’tknowifmyparanoiahastakenoverorifsomeonereallyis
watchingme.ChristianopensthepassengerdooroftheAudiandlooksatme
expectantly.
“Areyougettingin?”heasks.
“IthoughtIwasdriving.”
“No.I’lldrive.”
“Somethingwrongwithmydriving?Don’ttellmeyouknowwhatIscored
onmydrivingtest…Iwouldn’tbesurprisedwithyourstalkingtendencies.”
MaybeheknowsthatIjustscrapedthroughthewrittentest.
“Getinthecar,Anastasia,”hesnapsangrily.
“Okay.”Ihastilyclimbin.Honestly,chill,willyou?
Perhapshehasthesameuneasyfeeling,too.Somedarksentinelwatchingus
—well,apalebrunettewithbrowneyeswhohasanuncannyresemblanceto
yourstrulyandquitepossiblyaconcealedfirearm.
Christiansetsoffintothetraffic.
“Wereallyoursubmissivesbrunettes?”
Hefrownsandglancesatmequickly.“Yes,”hemutters.Hesoundsuncertain,
andIimaginehimthinking,where’sshegoingwiththis?
“Ijustwondered.”
“Itoldyou.Ipreferbrunettes.”
“Mrs.Robinsonisn’tabrunette.”
“That’sprobablywhy,”hemutters.“Sheputmeoffblondesforever.”
“You’rekidding,”Igasp.
“Yes.I’mkidding,”hereplies,exasperated.
Istareimpassivelyoutthewindow,spyingbrunetteseverywhere,noneof
themLeila,though.
So,heonlylikesbrunettes.Iwonderwhy?DidMrs.Extraordinarily-
Glamorous-In-Spite-Of-Being-OldRobinsonreallyputhimoffblondes?I
shakemyhead—ChristianMindfuckGrey.
“Tellmeabouther.”
“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”Christian’sbrowfurrows,andhistoneofvoice
triestowarnmeoff.
“Tellmeaboutyourbusinessarrangement.”
Hevisiblyrelaxes,happytotalkaboutwork.“Iamasilentpartner.I’mnot
particularlyinterestedinthebeautybusiness,butshe’sbuiltitintoa
successfulventure.Ijustinvestedandhelpedgetherstarted.”
“Why?”
“Iowedittoher.”
“Oh?”
“WhenIdroppedoutofHarvard,shelentmeahundredgrandtostartmy
business.”
Holyfuck…she’srich,too.
“Youdroppedout?”
“Itwasn’tmything.Ididtwoyears.Unfortunately,myparentswerenotso
understanding.“Ifrown.Mr.GreyandDr.GraceTrevelyandisapproving,I
can’tpictureit.
“Youdon’tseemtohavedonetoobadlydroppingout.Whatwasyour
major?”
“PoliticsandEconomics.”
Hmm…figures.
“Soshe’srich?”Imurmur.
“Shewasaboredtrophywife,Anastasia.Herhusbandwaswealthy—bigin
timber.”
Hesmirks.“Hewouldn’tletherwork.Youknow,hewascontrolling.Some
menarelikethat.”Hegivesmeaquicksidewaysgrin.
“Really?Acontrollingman,surelyamythicalcreature?”Idon’tthinkIcan
squeezeanymoresarcasmintomyresponse.
Christian’sgringetsbigger.
“Shelentyouherhusband’smoney?”
Henodsandasmallmischievoussmileappearsonhislips.
“That’sterrible.”
“Hegothisownback,”Christiansaysdarklyashepullsintotheunderground
garageatEscala.
Oh?
“How?”
Christianshakeshisheadasifrecallingaparticularlysourmemoryandparks
besidetheAudiQuattroSUV.“Come—Francowillbehereshortly.”
IntheelevatorChristianpeersdownatme.“Stillmadatme?”heasksmatter-
of-factly.
“Very.”
Henods.“Okay,”hesays,andstaresstraightahead.
Tayloriswaitingforuswhenwearriveinthefoyer.Howdoeshealways
know?Hetakesmycase.
“HasWelchbeenintouch?”Christianasks.
“Yes,sir.”
“And?”
“Everything’sarranged.”
“Excellent.How’syourdaughter?”
“She’sfine,thankyou,sir.”
“Good.Wehaveahairdresserarrivingatone—FrancoDeLuca.”
“MissSteele,”Taylornodsatme.
“Hi,Taylor.Youhaveadaughter?”
“Yesma’am.”
“Howoldisshe?”
“She’sseven.”
Christiangazesatmeimpatiently.
“Sheliveswithhermother,”Taylorclarifies.
“Oh,Isee.”
Taylorsmilesatme.Thisisunexpected.Taylor’safather?IfollowChristian
intothegreatroom,intriguedbythisinformation.
Iglancearound.Ihaven’tbeenheresinceIwalkedout.
“Areyouhungry?”
Ishakemyhead.Christiangazesatmeforabeatanddecidesnottoargue.
“Ihavetomakeafewcalls.Makeyourselfathome.”
“Okay.”
Christiandisappearsintohisstudy,leavingmestandinginthehugeartgallery
hecallshomeandwonderingwhattodowithmyself.
Clothes!Pickingupmybackpack,Iwanderupstairstomybedroomand
checkoutthewalk-incloset.It’sstillfullofclothes—allbrandnewwithprice
tagsstillattached.Threelongeveningdresses,threecocktaildresses,and
threemoreforeverydaywear.Allthismusthavecostafortune.
Icheckthetagononeoftheeveningdresses:$2,998.Holyfuck.Isinktothe
floor.
Thisisn’tme.Iputmyheadinmyhandsandtrytoprocessthelastfewhours.
It’sexhausting.Why,ohwhyhaveIfallenforsomeonewhoisplaincrazy—
beautiful,sexyasfuck,richerthanCroesus,andcrazywithacapitalK?
IfishmyBlackberryoutofmybackpackandcallmymom.
“Ana,honey!It’sbeensolong.Howareyou,darling?”
“Oh,youknow…”
“What’swrong?StillnotworkeditoutwithChristian?”
“Mom,it’scomplicated.Ithinkhe’snuts.That’stheproblem.”
“Tellmeaboutit.Men,there’sjustnoreadingthemsometimes.Bob’s
wonderingifourmovetoGeorgiawasagoodone.”
“What?”
“Yeah,he’stalkingaboutgoingbacktoVegas.”
Oh,someoneelsehasproblems.I’mnottheonlyone.
Christianappearsinthedoorway.“Thereyouare.Ithoughtyou’drunoff.”
Hisreliefisobvious.
IholdmyhanduptoindicatethatI’monthephone.“Sorry,Mom,Ihaveto
go.I’llcallagainsoon.”
“Okay,honey—takecareofyourself.Loveyou!”
“Loveyou,too,Mom.”
IhangupandgazeatFifty.Hefrowns,lookingstrangelyawkward.
“Whyareyouhidinginhere?”heasks.
“I’mnothiding.I’mdespairing.”
“Despairing?”
“Ofallthis,Christian.”Iwavemyhandinthegeneraldirectionoftheclothes.
“CanIcomein?”
“It’syourcloset.”
Hefrownsagainandsitsdown,cross-legged,facingme.
“They’rejustclothes.Ifyoudon’tlikethemI’llsendthemback.”
“You’realottotakeon,youknow?”
Heblinksatmeandscratcheshischin…hisstubblychin.Myfingersitchto
touchhim.“Iknow.I’mtrying,”hemurmurs.
“You’reverytrying.”
“Asareyou,MissSteele.”
“Whyareyoudoingthis?”
Hiseyeswidenandhiswarylookreturns.“Youknowwhy.”
“No,Idon’t.”
Herunsahandthroughhishair.“Youareonefrustratingfemale.”
“Youcouldhaveanicebrunettesubmissive.Onewho’dsay,‘howhigh?’
everytimeyousaidjump,providedofcourseshehadpermissiontospeak.So
whyme,Christian?Ijustdon’tgetit.”
Hegazesatmeforamoment,andIhavenoideawhathe’sthinking.
“Youmakemelookattheworlddifferently,Anastasia.Youdon’twantmefor
mymoney.Yougiveme…hope,”hesayssoftly.
What?Mr.Crypticisback.“Hopeofwhat?”
Heshrugs.“More.”Hisvoiceislowandquiet.“Andyou’reright.Iamused
towomendoingexactlywhatIsay,whenIsay,doingexactlywhatIwant.It
getsoldquickly.There’ssomethingaboutyou,Anastasia,thatcallstomeon
somedeeplevelIdon’tunderstand.
It’sasiren’scall.Ican’tresistyou,andIdon’twanttoloseyou.”Hereaches
forwardandtakesmyhand.“Don’trun,please—havealittlefaithinmeanda
littlepatience.Please.”
Helookssovulnerable…Jeez,it’sdisturbing.Leaninguponmyknees,I
bendforwardandkisshimgentlyonhislips.
“Okay.Faithandpatience,Icanlivewiththat.”
“Good.BecauseFranco’shere.”
Francoissmall,dark,andgay.Ilovehim.
“Suchbeautifulhair!”hegusheswithanoutrageous,probablyfakeItalian
accent.Ibethe’sfromBaltimoreorsomewhere,buthisenthusiasmis
infectious.Christianleadsusbothintohisbathroom,exitshurriedly,andre-
enterscarryingachairfromhisroom.
“I’llleaveyoutwotoit,”hemutters.
“Grazie,Mr.Grey.”Francoturnstome.“Bene,Anastasia,whatshallwedo
withyou?”
Christianissittingonhiscouch,plowingthroughwhatlooklikespread
sheets.Soft,mellowclassicalmusicdriftsthroughthegreatroom.Awoman
singspassionately,pouringhersoulintothesong.It’sbreath-taking.Christian
glancesupandsmiles,distractingmefromthemusic.
“See!Itellyouhelikeit,”Francoenthuses.
“Youlooklovely,Ana,”Christiansaysappreciatively.
“Mywork‘ereisdone,”Francoexclaims.
Christianrisesandstrollstowardus.“Thankyou,Franco.”
Francoturns,graspsmeinanoverwhelmingbearhug,andkissesbothmy
cheeks.
“Neverletanyoneelsebecuttingyourhair,bellissimaAnastasia!”
Ilaugh,slightlyembarrassedbyhisfamiliarity.Christianshowshimtothe
foyerdoorandreturnsmomentslater.
“I’mgladyoukeptitlong,”hesaysashewalkstowardme,hiseyesbright.
Hetakesastrandbetweenhisfingers.
“Sosoft,”hemurmurs,gazingdownatme.“Areyoustillmadatme?”
Inodandhesmiles.
“Whatpreciselyareyoumadatmeabout?”
Irollmyeyes.“Youwantthelist?”
“There’salist?”
“Alongone.”
“Canwediscussitinbed?”
“No.”Ipoutathimchildishly.
“Overlunch,then.I’mhungry,andnotjustforfood,”hegivesmeasalacious
smile.
“Iamnotgoingtoletyoudazzlemewithyoursexpertise.”
Hestiflesasmile.“Whatisbotheringyouspecifically,MissSteele?Spitit
out.”
Okay.
“What’sbotheringme?Well,there’syourgrossinvasionofmyprivacy,the
factthatyoutookmetosomeplacewhereyourex-mistressworksandyou
usedtotakeallyourloverstohavetheirbitswaxed,youmanhandledmein
thestreetlikeIwassixyearsold—andtocapitall,youletyourMrs.
Robinsontouchyou!”Myvoicehasrisentoacrescendo.
Heraiseshiseyebrows,andhisgoodhumourvanishes.
“That’squitealist.Butjusttoclarifyoncemore—she’snotmyMrs.
Robinson.”
“Shecantouchyou,”Irepeat.
Hepurseshislips.“Sheknowswhere.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Herunsbothhandsthroughhishairandcloseshiseyesbriefly,asifhe’s
seekingdivineguidanceofsomekind.Heswallows.
“YouandIdon’thaveanyrules.Ihaveneverhadarelationshipwithoutrules,
andIneverknowwhereyou’regoingtotouchme.Itmakesmenervous.Your
touchcompletely—”Hestops,searchingforthewords.“Itjustmeansmore
…somuchmore”
More?Hisanswer’scompletelyunexpected,throwingme,andthere’sthat
littlewordwiththebigmeaninghangingbetweenusagain.
Mytouchmeans…more.Holycow.HowamIsupposedtoresistwhenhe
saysthisstuff?Grayeyessearchmine,watching,apprehensive.
TentativelyIreachoutandapprehensionshiftstoalarm.Christianstepsback
andIdropmyhand.
“Hardlimit,”hewhispersurgently,apained,panickedlookonhisface.
Ican’thelpbutfeelacrushingdisappointment.“Howwouldyoufeelifyou
couldn’ttouchme?”
“Devastatedanddeprived,”hesaysimmediately.
Oh,myFiftyShades.Shakingmyhead,Iofferhimasmall,reassuringsmile
andherelaxes.
“You’llhavetotellmeexactlywhythisisahardlimit,oneday,please.”
“Oneday,”hemurmursandseemstosnapoutofhisvulnerabilityina
nanosecond.
Howcanheswitchsoquickly?He’sthemostcapriciouspersonIknow.
“So,therestofyourlist.Invadingyourprivacy.”Hismouthtwistsashe
contemplatesthis.“BecauseIknowyourbankaccountnumber?”
“Yes,that’soutrageous.”
“Idobackgroundchecksonallmysubmissives.I’llshowyou.”Heturnsand
headsforhisstudy.
Idutifullyfollowhim,dazed.Fromalockedfilingcabinet,hepullsamanila
folder.
Typedonthetab:AnastasiaRoseSteele.
Holyfuckingshit.Iglareathim.
Heshrugsapologetically.“Youcankeepit,”hesaysquietly.
“Well,gee,thanks,”Isnap.Iflickthroughthecontents.Hehasacopyofmy
birthcertificate,forheaven’ssake,myhardlimits,theNDA,thecontract—
Jeez—mysocialsecuritynumber,resume,employmentrecords.
“SoyouknewIworkedatClayton’s?”
“Yes.”
“Itwasn’tacoincidence.Youdidn’tjustdropby?”
“No.”
Idon’tknowwhethertobeangryorflattered.
“Thisisfucked-up.Youknowthat?”
“Idon’tseeitthatway.WhatIdo,Ihavetobecareful.”
“Butthisisprivate.”
“Idon’tmisusetheinformation.Anyonecangetholdofitiftheyhavehalfa
mindto,Anastasia.Tohavecontrol—Ineedinformation.It’showI’vealways
operated.”Hegazesatme,hisexpressionguardedandunreadable.
“Youdomisusetheinformation.Youdepositedtwenty-fourthousanddollars
thatIdidn’twantintomyaccount.”
Hismouthpressesinahardline.“Itoldyou.That’swhatTaylormanagedto
getforyourcar.Unbelievable,Iknow,butthereyougo.”
“ButtheAudi…”
“Anastasia,doyouhaveanyideahowmuchmoneyImake?”
Iflush,ofcoursenot.“WhyshouldI?Idon’tneedtoknowthebottomlineof
yourbankaccount,Christian.”
Hiseyessoften.“Iknow.That’soneofthethingsIloveaboutyou.”
Igazeathim,shocked.Loveaboutme?
“Anastasia,Iearnroughlyonehundredthousanddollarsanhour.”
Mymouthdropsopen.Thatisanobsceneamountofmoney.
“Twenty-fourthousanddollarsisnothing.Thecar,theTessbooks,the
clothes,they’renothing.”Hisvoiceissoft.
Igazeathim.Hereallyhasnoidea.Extraordinary.
“Ifyouwereme,howwouldyoufeelaboutallthis…largessecomingyour
way?”Iask.Hestaresatmeblankly,andthereitis,hisprobleminanutshell
—empathyorthelackthereof.Thesilencestretchesbetweenus.
Finally,heshrugs.“Idon’tknow,”hesays,andhelooksgenuinelybemused.
Myheartswells.Thisisit,thecruxofhisFiftyShades,surely.Hecan’tput
himselfinmyshoes.Well,nowIknow.
“Itdoesn’tfeelgreat.Imean,you’reverygenerous,butitmakesme
uncomfortable.Ihavetoldyouthisenoughtimes.”
Hesighs.“Iwanttogiveyoutheworld,Anastasia.”
“Ijustwantyou,Christian.Notalltheadd-ons.”
“They’repartofthedeal.PartofwhatIam.”
Oh,thisisgoingnowhere.
“Shallweeat?”Iask.Thistensionbetweenusisdraining.
Hefrowns.“Sure.”
“I’llcook.”
“Good.Otherwisethere’sfoodinthefridge.”
“Mrs.Jonesisoffontheweekends?Soyoueatcoldcutsmostweekends?”
“No.”
“Oh?”
Hesighs.“Mysubmissivescook,Anastasia.”
“Oh,ofcourse.”Iflush.HowcouldIbesostupid?Ismilesweetlyathim.
“WhatwouldSirliketoeat?”
Hesmirks.“WhateverMadamcanfind,”hesaysdarkly.
Inspectingtheimpressivecontentsofthefridge,IdecideonSpanishomelette.
Thereareevencoldpotatoes—perfect.It’squickandeasy.Christianisstillin
hisstudy,nodoubtinvadingsomepoor,unsuspectingfool’sprivacyand
compilinginformation.Thethoughtisunpleasantandleavesabittertastein
mymouth.Mymindisreeling.Hereallyknowsnobounds.
IneedmusicifI’mgoingtocook,andI’mgoingtocookunsubmissively!I
wanderovertotheiPoddockbesidethefireplaceandpickupChristian’s
iPod.IbettherearemoreofLeila’schoicesonhere,—Idreadtheveryidea.
Whereisshe?Iwonder.Whatdoesshewant?
Ishudder.Whatalegacy.Ican’twrapmyheadaroundit.
Iscrollthroughtheextensivelist.Iwantsomethingupbeat.Hmm,Beyoncé—
doesn’tsoundlikeChristian’staste.CrazyinLove.Ohyes!Howapt.Ihitthe
repeatbuttonandputitonloud.
Isashaybacktothekitchenandfindabowl,openthefridge,andtakeoutthe
eggs.Icrackthemopenandbegintowhisk,dancingthewholetime.
Raidingthefridgeoncemore,Igatherpotatoes,ham,and—Yes!—peasfrom
thefreezer.Allofthesewilldo.Findingapan,Iplaceitonthestove,putina
littleoliveoil,andgobacktowhisking.
Noempathy,Imuse.IsthisuniquetoChristian?Maybeallmenarelikethis,
baffledbywomen.Ijustdon’tknow.Perhapsit’snotsucharevelation.
IwishKatewerehome;shewouldknow.She’sbeeninBarbadosfartoolong.
Sheshouldbebackattheendoftheweekafterheradditionalvacationwith
Elliot.Iwonderifit’sstilllustatfirstsightforthem.
OneofthethingsIloveaboutyou.
Istopwhisking.Hesaidit.Doesthatmeanthereareotherthings?Ismilefor
thefirsttimesinceseeingMrs.Robinson—agenuine,heartfelt,face-splitting
smile.
Christianslipshisarmsaroundme,makingmejump.
“Interestingchoiceofmusic,”hepurrsashekissesmebelowmyear.“Your
hairsmellsgood.”Henuzzlesmyhairandinhalesdeeply.
Desireuncurlsinmybelly.No.Ishrugoutofhisembrace.
“I’mstillmadatyou.”
Hefrowns.“Howlongareyougoingtokeepthisup?”heasks,dragginga
handthroughhishair.
Ishrug.“AtleastuntilI’veeaten.”
Hislipstwitchwithamusement.Turning,hepicksuptheremotecontrolfrom
thecounterandswitchesoffthemusic.
“DidyouputthatonyouriPod?”Iask.
Heshakeshishead,hisexpressionsombre,andIknowitwasher—Ghost
Girl.
“Don’tyouthinkshewastryingtotellyousomethingbackthen?”
“Well,withhindsight,probably,”hesaysquietly.
Noempathy.Mysubconsciousfoldsherarmsandsmacksherlipsindisgust.
“Why’sitstillonthere?”
“Iquitelikethesong.ButifitoffendsyouI’llremoveit.”
“No,it’sfine.Iliketocooktomusic.”
“Whatwouldyouliketohear?”
“Surpriseme.”
HesmirksatmeandheadsovertotheiPoddockwhileIgobacktomy
whisking.
Momentslatertheheavenlysweet,soulfulvoiceofNinaSimonefillsthe
room.It’soneofRay’sfavourites:“IPutaSpellonYou.”
Iflush,turningtogapeatChristian.Whatishetryingtotellme?Heputa
spellonmealongtimeago.Ohmy…hislookhaschanged,thelevitygone,
hiseyesdarker,intense.
Iwatchhim,enthralledasslowly,likethepredatorheis,hestalksmeintime
totheslowsultrybeatofthemusic.He’sbarefoot,wearingjustanuntucked
whiteshirt,jeans,andasmoulderinglook.
Ninasings,“you’remine”asChristianreachesme,hisintentionclear.
“Christian,please,”Iwhisper,thewhiskredundantinmyhand.
“Pleasewhat?”
“Don’tdothis.”
“Dowhat?”
“This.”
He’sstandinginfrontofme,gazingdownatme.
“Areyousure?”hebreathesandreachingover,hetakesthewhiskfrommy
handandplacesitbackinthebowlwiththeeggs.Myheartisinmymouth.I
don’twantthis—Idowantthis—badly.
He’ssofrustrating.He’ssohotanddesirable.Itearmygazeawayfromhis
spellbindinglook.
“Iwantyou,Anastasia,”hemurmurs.“IloveandIhate,andIlovearguing
withyou.
It’sverynew.Ineedtoknowthatwe’reokay.It’stheonlywayIknowhow.”
“Myfeelingsforyouhaven’tchanged,”Iwhisper.
Hisproximityisoverwhelming,exhilarating.Thefamiliarpullisthere,allmy
synapsesgoadingmetowardhim,myinnergoddessathermostlibidinous.
StaringatthepatchofhairintheVofhisshirt,Ibitemylip,helpless,driven
bydesire—Iwanttotastehimthere.
He’ssoclose,buthedoesn’ttouchme.Hisheatiswarmingmyskin.
“I’mnotgoingtotouchyouuntilyousayyes,”hesayssoftly.“Butrightnow,
afterareallyshittymorning,Iwanttoburymyselfinyouandjustforget
everythingbutus.”
Ohmy…Us.Amagicalcombination,asmallpotentpronounthatclinches
thedeal.Iraisemyheadtostareathisbeautifulyetseriousface.
“I’mgoingtotouchyourface,”Ibreathe,andseehissurprisereflectedbriefly
inhiseyesbeforehisacceptanceregisters.
Liftingmyhand,Icaresshischeek,andrunmyfingertipsacrosshisstubble.
Hecloseshiseyesandexhales,leaninghisfaceintomytouch.
Heleansdownslowly,andmylipsautomaticallylifttomeethis.Hehovers
overme.
“Yesorno,Anastasia?”hewhispers.
“Yes.”
Hismouthsoftlyclosesonmine,coaxing,coercingmylipsapartashisarms
foldaroundme,pullingmetohim.Hishandmovesupmyback,fingers
tanglinginthehairatthebackofmyheadandtugginggently,whilehisother
handflattensonmybehind,forcingmeagainsthim.Imoansoftly.
“Mr.Grey.”Taylorcoughs,andChristianreleasesmeimmediately.
“Taylor,”hesays,hisvoicefrigid.
IwhirlroundtoseeanuncomfortableTaylorstandingonthethresholdofthe
greatroom.ChristianandTaylorstareateachother,someunspoken
communicationpassingbetweenthem.
“Mystudy,”Christiansnaps,andTaylorwalksbrisklyacrosstheroom.
“Raincheck,”ChristianwhisperstomebeforefollowingTayloroutofthe
room.
Itakeadeep,steadyingbreath.Holyhell.CanInotresisthimforone
minute?Ishakemyhead,disgustedatmyself,gratefulforTaylor’s
interruption,embarrassingthoughitis.
IwonderwhatTaylorhashadtointerruptinthepast.What’sheseen?Idon’t
wanttothinkaboutthat.Lunch.I’llmakelunch.Ibusymyselfslicing
potatoes.WhatdoesTaylorwant?Mymindraces—isthisaboutLeila?
Tenminuteslater,theyemerge,justastheomeletteisready.Christianlooks
preoccupiedasheglancesatme.
“I’llbrieftheminten,”hesaystoTaylor.
“We’llbeready,”Tayloranswersandleavesthegreatroom.
Iproducetwowarmedplatesandplacethemonthekitchenisland.
“Lunch?”
“Please,”Christiansaysasheperchesononeofthebarstools.Nowhe’s
watchingmecarefully.
“Problem?”
“No.”
Iscowl.He’snottellingme.Idishoutlunchandsitdownbesidehim,
resignedtostayinginthedark.
“Thisisgood,”Christianmurmursappreciativelyashetakesabite.“Would
youlikeaglassofwine?”
“No,thankyou.”Ineedtokeepaclearheadaroundyou,Grey.
Itdoestastegood,eventhoughI’mnotthathungry.ButIeat,knowing
ChristianwillnagifIdon’t.EventuallyChristiandisruptsourbrooding
silenceandswitchesontheclassicalpieceIheardearlier.
“What’sthis?”Iask.
“Canteloube,SongsoftheAuvergne.Thisiscalled‘Bailero.’”
“It’slovely.Whatlanguageisit?”
“It’sinoldFrench—Occitan,infact.”
“YouspeakFrench,doyouunderstandit?”MemoriesoftheflawlessFrench
hespokeathisparents’dinnercometomind…
“Somewords,yes.”Christiansmiles,visiblyrelaxing.“Mymotherhada
mantra:musicalinstrument,foreignlanguage,martialart.Elliotspeaks
Spanish;MiaandIspeakFrench.Elliotplaysguitar,Iplaypiano,andMiathe
cello.”
“Wow.Andthemartialarts?”
“ElliotdoesJudo.Miaputherfootdownatagetwelveandrefused.”He
smirksatthememory.
“Iwishmymotherhadbeenthatorganized.”
“Dr.Graceisformidablewhenitcomestotheaccomplishmentsofher
children.”
“Shemustbeveryproudofyou.Iwouldbe.”
AdarkthoughtflashesacrossChristian’sface,andhelooksmomentarily
uncomfortable.Heregardsmewarilyasifhe’sinunchartedterritory.
“Haveyoudecidedwhatyou’llwearthisevening?OrdoIneedtocomeand
picksomethingforyou?”Histoneissuddenlybrusque.
Whoa!Hesoundsangry.Why?WhathaveIsaid?
“Um…notyet.Didyouchooseallthoseclothes?”
“No,Anastasia,Ididn’t.Igavealistandyoursizetoapersonalshopperat
NeimanMarcus.Theyshouldfit.Justsothatyouknow,Ihaveordered
additionalsecurityforthiseveningandthenextfewdays.WithLeila
unpredictableandunaccountedforsomewhereonthestreetsofSeattle,I
thinkit’sawiseprecaution.Idon’twantyougoingoutunaccompanied.
Okay?”
Iblinkathim.“Okay.”WhathappenedtoI-must-have-you-nowGrey?
“Good.I’mgoingtobriefthem.Ishouldn’tbelong.”
“They’rehere?”
“Yes.”
Where?
Collectinghisplate,Christianplacesitinthesinkanddisappearsfromthe
room.Whatthehellwasthatabout?He’slikeseveraldifferentpeopleinone
body.Isn’tthatasymptomofschizophrenia?ImustGooglethat.
Iclearmyplate,washupquickly,andheadbackuptomybedroomcarrying
theAnastasiaRoseSteeledossier.Backinthewalk-incloset,Ipulloutthe
threelongeveningdresses.Now,whichone?
Lyingdownonthebed,IgazeatmyMac,myiPad,andmyBlackberry.Iam
overwhelmedwithtechnology.IsetabouttransferringChristian’splaylist
frommyiPadtotheMac,thenfireupGoogletosurfthenet.
I’mlyingacrossthebedlookingatmyMacasChristianenters.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heinquiressoftly.
Ipanicbriefly,wonderingifIshouldlethimseethewebsiteI’mon:Multiple
PersonalityDisorder:TheSymptoms.
Stretchingoutbesideme,heeyesthewebpagewithamusement.
“Onthissiteforareason?”heasksnonchalantly.
BrusqueChristianhasgone—playfulChristianisback.HowthehellamI
supposedtokeepupwiththis?
“Research.Intoadifficultpersonality.”Igivehimmymostdeadpanlook.
Hislipstwitchwithasuppressedsmile.“Adifficultpersonality?”
“Myownpetproject.”
“I’mapetprojectnow?Asideline.Scienceexperimentmaybe.WhenI
thoughtIwaseverything.MissSteele,youwoundme.”
“Howdoyouknowit’syou?”
“Wildguess.”Hesmirks.
“It’struethatyouaretheonlyfucked-up,mercurial,controlfreakthatIknow,
intimately.”
“IthoughtIwastheonlypersonyouknowintimately.”Hearchesabrow.
Iflush.“Yes.That,too.”
“Haveyoureachedanyconclusionsyet?”
Iturnandgazeathim.He’sonhissidestretchedoutbesidemewithhishead
restingonhiselbow,hisexpressionsoft,amused.
“Ithinkyou’reinneedofintensetherapy.”
Hereachesupandgentlytucksmyhairbehindmyears.
“IthinkI’minneedofyou.Here.”Hehandsmeatubeoflipstick.
Ifrownathim,perplexed.It’sharlotred,notmycolouratall.
“Youwantmetowearthis?”Isqueak.
Helaughs.“No,Anastasia,notunlessyouwantto.Notsureit’syourcolour,”
hefinishesdryly.
Hesitsuponthebedcross-leggedanddragshisshirtoffoverhishead.Oh
my.“Ilikeyourroadmapidea.”
Istareathimblankly.Roadmap?
“Theno-goareas,”hesaysbywayofexplanation.
“Oh.Iwaskidding.”
“I’mnot.”
“Youwantmetodrawonyou,withlipstick?”
“Itwashesoff.Eventually.”
ThismeansIcouldtouchhimfreely.Asmallsmileofwonderplaysonmy
lips,andIsmirkathim.
“WhataboutsomethingmorepermanentlikeaSharpie?”
“Icouldgetatattoo.”Hiseyesarealightwithhumour.
ChristianGreywithatatt?Marringhislovelybody,whenit’smarkedinso
manywaysalready?Noway!
“Notothetattoo!”Ilaughtohidemyhorror.
“Lipstick,then.”Hegrins.
ShuttingtheMac,Ipushittotheside.Thiscouldbefun.
“Come.”Heholdshishandsouttome.“Sitonme.”
Ipushmyflatsoffmyfeet,scrambleintoasittingposition,andcrawloverto
him.Heliesdownonthebedbutkeepshiskneesflexed.
“Leanagainstmylegs.”
Iclamberoverhimandsitastrideasinstructed.Hiseyesarewideand
cautious.Buthe’samused,too.
“Youseem—enthusiasticforthis,”hecommentswryly.
“I’malwayseagerforinformation,Mr.Grey,anditmeansyou’llrelax,
becauseI’llknowwheretheboundarieslie.”
Heshakeshishead,asifhecan’tquitebelievethathe’sabouttoletmedraw
alloverhisbody.
“Openthelipstick,”heorders.
Oh,he’sinüber-bossymode,butIdon’tcare.
“Givemeyourhand.”
Igivehimmyotherhand.
“Theonewiththelipstick.”Herollshiseyesatme.
“Areyourollingyoureyesatme?”
“Yep.”
“That’sveryrude,Mr.Grey.Iknowsomepeoplewhogetpositivelyviolentat
eye-rolling.”
“Doyounow?”Histoneisironic.
Igivehimmyhandwiththelipstick,andsuddenlyhesitsupsowearenose
tonose.
“Ready?”heasksinalow,softmurmurthatmakeseverythingtightenand
tenseinsideme.Ohwow.
“Yes,”Iwhisper.Hisproximityisalluring,histonedfleshclose,his
Christian-smellmixedwithmybodywash.Heguidesmyhanduptothecurve
ofhisshoulder.
“Pressdown,”hebreathes,andmymouthgoesdryashedirectsmyhand
down,fromthetopofhisshoulder,aroundhisarmsocketthendowntheside
ofhischest.Thelipstickleavesabroad,lividredstreakitinitswake.He
stopsatthebottomofthisribcagethendirectsmeacrosshisstomach.He
tensesandstares,seeminglyimpassive,intomyeyes,butbeneathhiscareful
blanklook,Iseehisrestraint.
Hisaversionisheldinstrictcheck,thelineofhisjawisstrained,andthere’s
tensionaroundhiseyes.Midwayacrosshisstomachhemurmurs,“Andup
theotherside.”Hereleasesmyhand.
ImirrorthelineI’vedrawnonhisleftside.Thetrusthe’sgivingmeisheady
buttemperedbythefactthatIcanIcounthispain.Sevensmall,roundwhite
scarsdothischest,andit’sdeep,darkpurgatorytoseethishideous,evil
desecrationofhisbeautifulbody.
Whowoulddothistoachild?
“There,done,”Iwhisper,containingmyemotion.
“No,you’renot,”herepliesandtracesalinewithhislongindexfinger
aroundthebaseofhisneck.Ifollowthelineofhisfingerwithascarlet
streak.Finishing,Igazeintothegreydepthsofhiseyes.
“Nowmyback,”hemurmurs.HeshiftssoIhavetoclimboffhim,thenhe
turnsaroundonthebedandsitscross-leggedwithhisbacktome.
“Followthelinefrommychest,allthewayroundtotheotherside.”His
voiceislowandhusky.
Idoashesaysuntilacrimsonlinerunsacrossthemiddleofhisback,andasI
do,Icountmorescarsmarringhisbeautifulbody.Nineinall.
Holyfuck.Ihavetofighttheoverwhelmingneedtokisseachoneandstopthe
tearspoolinginmyeyes.Whatkindofanimalwoulddothis?Hisheadis
down,andhisbodytenseasIcompletethecircuitroundhisback.
“Aroundyourneck,too?”Iwhisper.
Henods,andIdrawanotherlinejoiningthefirstaroundthebaseofhisneck
beneathhishair.
“Finished,”Imurmur,anditlookslikehe’swearingabizarreskin-coloured
vestwithaharlot-redtrim.
Hisshouldersslumpasherelaxes,andheturnsslowlytofacemeonceagain.
“Thosearetheboundaries,”hesaysquietly,hiseyesdarkandpupilsdilated
…fromfear?Fromlust?Iwanttohurlmyselfathim,butIrestrainmyself
andgazeathiminwonder.
“Icanlivewiththose.RightnowIwanttolaunchmyselfatyou,”Iwhisper.
Hegivesmeawickedsmileandholdsouthishands,agestureof
supplication.
“Well,MissSteele,I’mallyours.”
Isquealwithchildishdelightandcatapultmyselfintohisarms,knockinghim
flat.Hetwists,lettingoutaboyishlaughfilledwithreliefthattheordealis
over.Somehow,Iendupbeneathhimonthebed.
“Now,aboutthatraincheck,”hebreathesandhismouthclaimsmineonce
more.
MyhandsfistinhishairwhilemymouthisfeverishagainstChristian’s,
consuminghim,relishingthefeelofhistongueagainstmine.Andhe’sthe
same,devouringme.It’sheavenly.Suddenlyhedragsmeupandgraspsthe
hemofmyT-shirt,whippingitovermyheadandthrowingitonthefloor.
“Iwanttofeelyou,”hesaysgreedilyagainstmymouthashishandsmove
behindmetoundomybra.Inonesmoothmove,it’soffandhepitchesit
aside.
Hepushesmebackdownontothebed,pressingmeintothemattress,andhis
mouthandhandmovetomybreasts.Myfingerscurlintohishairashetakes
oneofmynipplesbetweenhislipsandtugshard.
Icryoutasthesensationsweepsthroughmybody,spikes,andtightensallthe
musclesaroundmygroin.
“Yes,baby,letmehearyou,”hemurmursagainstmyoverheatedskin.
Boy,Iwanthiminsideme,now.Withhismouth,hetoyswithmynipple,
pullingatit,makingmesquirmandwritheandyearnforhim.Isensehis
longingmixedwith—what?
Veneration.It’sasifhe’sworshippingme.
Heteasesmewithhisfingers,mynipplegrowinghardandelongatingunder
hisskilfultouch.Hishandmovestomyjeans,andhedeftlyundoesthe
button,tugsthezipperdown,andslipshishandinsidemypanties,slidinghis
fingersagainstmysex.
Hisbreathhissesoutashisfingerglidesintome.Ipushmypelvisupintothe
heelofhishand,andheresponds,rubbingagainstme.
“Oh,baby,”hebreathesashehoversoverme,staringintentlyintomyeyes.
“You’resowet.”Hisvoiceisfilledwithwonder.
“Iwantyou,”Imurmur.
Hismouthjoinswithmineagain,andIfeelhishungrydesperation,hisneed
forme.
Thisisnew—it’sneverbeenlikethisexceptperhapswhenIcamebackfrom
Georgia—andhiswordsfromearlierdriftbacktome…Ineedtoknowwe’re
okay.ThisistheonlywayIknowhow.
Thethoughtunravelsme.ToknowthatIhavesuchaneffectonhim,thatI
canofferhimsomuchsolace,doingthis—myinnergoddesspurrswithpure
pleasure.Hesitsup,graspsthehemofmyjeans,andtugsthemoff,followed
bymypanties.
Keepinghiseyesfixedonmine,hestands,takesafoilpacketoutofhis
pocket,andtossesitatme,thenremoveshisjeansandboxersinoneswift
motion.
Iripthepacketopengreedily,andwhenheliesbesidemeagain,Islowlyroll
thecondomontohim.Hegrabsbothmyhandsandrollsontohisback.
“You.Ontop,”heorders,pullingmeastridehim.“Iwanttoseeyou.”
Oh.
Heguidesme,andhesitantlyIeasemyselfdownontohim.Hecloseshiseyes
andflexeshishipstomeetme,fillingme,stretchingme,hismouthforminga
perfectOasheexhales.
Oh,thatfeelssogood—possessinghim,possessingme.
Heholdsmyhands,andIdon’tknowifit’stosteadymeorkeepmefrom
touchinghim,eventhoughIhavemyroadmap.
“Youfeelsogood,”hemurmurs.
Iriseagain,headywiththepowerIhaveoverhim,watchingChristianGrey
slowlycomingapartbeneathme.Heletsgoofmyhandsandgrabsmyhips,
andIplacemyhandsonhisarms.Hethrustsintomesharply,causingmeto
cryout.
“That’sright,baby,feelme,”hesays,hisvoicestrained.
Itipmyheadbackanddoexactlythat.Thisiswhathedoessowell.
Imove—counteringhisrhythminperfectsymmetry—numbingallthought
andreason.
Iamjustsensationlostinthisvoidofpleasure.Upanddown…againand
again…Ohyes…Openingmyeyes,Istaredownathim,mybreathing
ragged,andhe’sstaringbackatme,eyesblazing.
“MyAna,”hemouths.
“Yes,”Irasp.“Always.”
Hegroansloudly,closinghiseyesagain,tippinghisheadback.Ohmy…
SeeingChristianundoneisenoughtosealmyfate,andIcomeaudibly,
exhaustingly,spinningdownandaround,collapsingontopofhim.
“Oh,baby,”hegroansashefindshisrelease,holdingmestillandlettinggo.
Myheadisonhischestintheno-goarea,mycheeknestledagainstthe
springyhaironhissternum.Iampanting,glowing,andIresisttheurgeto
puckermylipsandkisshim.
Ijustlieontopofhim,catchingmybreath.Hesmoothesmyhair,andhis
handrunsdownmyback,caressingmeashisbreathingcalms.
“Youaresobeautiful.”
Iliftmyheadtogazeathim,myexpressionsceptical.Hefrownsinresponse
andsitsupquickly,takingmebysurprise,hisarmsweepingroundtoholdme
inplace.Iclutchhisbicepsaswearenosetonose.
“You.Are.Beautiful,”hesaysagain,histoneemphatic.
“Andyou’reamazinglysweetsometimes.”Ikisshimgently.
Heliftsmeandeasesoutofme.Iwinceashedoes.Leaningforward,he
kissesmesoftly.
“Youhavenoideahowattractiveyouare,doyou?”
Iflush.Why’shegoingonaboutthis?
“Allthoseboyspursuingyou—thatisn’tenoughofaclue?”
“Boys?Whatboys?”
“Youwantthelist?”Christianfrowns.“Thephotographer,he’scrazyabout
you,thatboyinthehardwarestore,yourroommate’solderbrother.Your
boss,”headdsbitterly.
“Oh,Christian,that’sjustnottrue.”
“Trustme.Theywantyou.Theywantwhat’smine.”Hepullsmeagainsthim,
andIliftmyarmstohisshoulders,myhandsinhishair,regardinghimwith
amusement.
“Mine,”herepeats,hiseyesglowingpossessively.
“Yes,yours.”Ireassurehim,smiling.Helooksmollified,andIfeelperfectly
comfortablenakedinhislaponabedinthefulllightofaSaturdayafternoon.
Whowouldhavethought?Thelipstickmarksremainonhisexquisitebody.I
notesomesmearsontheduvetcoverthough,andwonderbrieflywhatMrs.
Joneswillmakeofthem.
“Thelineisstillintact,”Imurmurandbravelytracethemarkonhisshoulder
withmyindexfinger.Hestiffens,blinkingsuddenly.“Iwanttogoexploring.”
Heregardsmesceptically.
“Theapartment?”
“No.Iwasthinkingofthetreasuremapthatwe’vedrawnonyou.”My
fingersitchtotouchhim.
Hiseyebrowsliftinsurprise,andheblinkswithuncertainty.Irubmynose
againsthis.
“Andwhatwouldthatentailexactly,MissSteele?”
Iliftmyhandfromhisshoulderandrunmyfingertipsdownthisface.
“IjustwanttotouchyoueverywhereI’mallowed.”
Christiancatchesmyindexfingerinhisteeth,bitingdowngently.
“Ow,”Iprotestandhegrins,alowgrowlcomingfromhisthroat.
“Okay,”hesays,releasingmyfinger,buthisvoiceislacedwith
apprehension.“Wait.”
Heleansbehindme,liftingmeagain,andremoveshiscondom,droppingit
unceremoniouslyonthefloorbesidethebed.
“Ihatethosethings.I’veagoodmindtocallDr.Greenearoundtogiveyoua
shot.”
“Youthinkthetopob-gyninSeattleisgoingtocomerunning?”
“Icanbeverypersuasive,”hemurmurs,hookingmyhairbehindmyear.
“Franco’sdoneagreatjobonyourhair.Iliketheselayers.”
What?
“Stopchangingthesubject.”
HeshiftsmebacksoI’mstraddlinghim,leaningonhispropped-upknees,my
feetoneithersideofhiships.Heleansbackonhisarms.
“Touchaway,”hesayswithouthumour.Helooksnervous,buthe’stryingto
hideit.
Keepingmyeyesonhis,Ireachdownandtracemyfingerunderneaththe
lipstickline,acrosshisfinelysculpturedabdominalmuscles.Heflinchesand
Istop.
“Idon’thaveto,”Iwhisper.
“No,it’sfine.Justtakessome…readjustmentonmypart.Noone’stouched
meforalongtime,”hemurmurs.
“Mrs.Robinson?”Thewordspopunbiddenoutofmymouth,andamazingly,
Imanagetokeepallbitternessandrancouroutofmyvoice.
Henods,hisdiscomfortobvious.“Idon’twanttotalkabouther.Itwillsour
yourgoodmood.”
“Icanhandleit.”
“No,youcan’t,Ana.YouseeredwheneverImentionher.Mypastismypast.
It’safact.Ican’tchangeit.I’mluckythatyoudon’thaveone,becauseit
woulddrivemecrazyifyoudid.”
Ifrownathim,butIdon’twanttofight.“Driveyoucrazy?Morethanyouare
already?”Ismile,hopingtolightentheatmospherebetweenus.
Hislipstwitch.“Crazyforyou,”hewhispers.
Myheartswellswithjoy.
“ShallIcallDr.Flynn?”
“Idon’tthinkthatwillbenecessary,”hesaysdryly.
Shiftingbacksohedropshislegs,Iplacemyfingersbackonhisstomachand
letthemdriftacrosshisskin.Hestillsoncemore.
“Iliketouchingyou.”Myfingersskatedowntohisnavelthensouthward
alonghishappy,happytrail.Hislipspartashisbreathingchanges,hiseyes
darkenandhiserectionstirsandtwitchesbeneathme.Holycow.Roundtwo.
“Again?”Imurmur.
Hesmiles.“Ohyes,MissSteele,again.”
WhatadeliciouswaytospendaSaturdayafternoon.Istandbeneaththe
shower,absentmindedlywashingmyself,carefulnottowetmytied-backhair,
contemplatingthelastcoupleofhours.Christianandvanillaseemtobegoing
well.
He’srevealedsomuchtoday.It’sstaggering,tryingtoassimilateallthe
informationandtoreflectonwhatI’velearned:hissalarydetails—Whoa,
he’sstinkingrich,andforsomeonesoyoung;it’sjustextraordinary—andthe
dossiershehasonmeandonallhisbrunettesubmissives.Iwonderiftheyare
allinthatfilingcabinet?
Mysubconsciouspursesherlipsatmeandshakesherhead—don’tevengo
there.Ifrown.Justaquickpeek?
Andthere’sLeila—withagun,potentially,somewhere—andhercraptastein
musicstillonhisiPod.Butevenworse,Mrs.PaedoRobinson,Icannotwrap
myheadaroundher,andIdon’twantto.Idon’twanthertobeashimmering-
hairedspectreinourrelationship.
He’sright,IdogooffthedeependwhenIthinkofher,soperhapsit’sbestif
Idon’t.
Istepoutoftheshoweranddrymyself,andI’msuddenlyseizedby
unexpectedanger.
Butwhowouldn’tgooffthedeepend?Whatnormal,sanepersonwoulddo
thattoafifteen-year-oldboy?Howmuchhasshecontributedtohis
fuckedupness?Idon’tunderstandher.Andworsestill,hesaysshehelped
him.How?
Ithinkofhisscars,thestarkphysicalembodimentofahorrificchildhoodand
asickeningreminderofwhatmentalscarshemustbear.Mysweet,sadFifty
Shades.He’ssaidsuchlovingthingstoday.He’scrazyforme.
Staringatmyreflection,Ismileatthememoryofhiswords,myheart
brimmingoncemore,andmyfacetransformswitharidiculoussmile.Perhaps
wecanmakethiswork.Buthowlongwillhewanttodothiswithoutwanting
tobeatthecrapoutofmebecauseIcrosssomearbitraryline?
Mysmiledissolves.ThisiswhatIdon’tknow.Thisistheshadowthathangs
overus.
Kinkyfuckery,yes,Icandothat,butmore?
Mysubconsciousstaresatmeblankly,foronceofferingnosnarkywordsof
wisdom.Iheadbacktomybedroomtodress.
Christianisdownstairsgettingready,doingwhateverhe’sdoing,soIhavethe
bedroomtomyself.Aswellasallthedressesinthecloset,Ihavedrawersfull
ofnewunderwear.Iselectablackbustiercorsetcreationwithapricetagof
fivehundredfortydollars.Ithassilvertrimlikefiligreeandthebriefestof
pantiestomatch.Thigh-highstockings,too,inanaturalcolour,sofine,pure
silk.Wow,theyfeel…slinky…andkindofhot…yeah.
IamreachingforthedresswhenChristianentersunannounced.Whoa,you
couldknock!Hestandsimmobilized,staringatme,greyeyesglimmering,
hungrily.Iblushcrimsoneverywhere,itfeels.Heiswearingawhiteshirtand
blacksuitpants,theneckofhisshirtisopen.Icanseethelipsticklinestillin
place,andhe’sstillstaring.
“CanIhelpyou,Mr.Grey?Iassumethereissomepurposetoyourvisitother
thantogawkmindlesslyatme.”
“Iamratherenjoyingmymindlessgawk,thankyou,MissSteele,”he
murmursdarkly,steppingfurtherintotheroomanddrinkingmein.“Remind
metosendapersonalnoteofthankstoCarolineActon.”
Ifrown.Whothehellisshe?
“ThepersonalshopperatNeiman’s,”hesays,spookilyansweringmy
unspokenquestion.“Oh.”
“I’mquitedistracted.”
“Icanseethat.Whatdoyouwant,Christian?”Igivehimmyno-nonsense
stare.
Heretaliateswithhiscrookedsmileandpullsthesilverballegg-thingsfrom
hispocket,stoppingmeinmytracks.Holyshit!Hewantstospankme?
Now?Why?
“It’snotwhatyouthink,”hesaysquickly.
“Enlightenme,”Iwhisper.
“Ithoughtyoucouldwearthesetonight.”
Andtheimplicationsofthatsentencehangbetweenusastheideasinksin.
“Tothisevent?”I’mshocked.
Henodsslowly,hiseyesdarkening.
Ohmy.
“Willyouspankmelater?”
“No.”
Foramoment,Ifeelatinyfleetingstabofdisappointment.
Hechuckles.“Youwantmeto?”
Iswallow.Ijustdon’tknow.
“Well,restassuredIamnotgoingtotouchyoulikethat,notevenifyoubeg
me.”
Oh!Thisisnews.
“Doyouwanttoplaythisgame?”hecontinues,holdinguptheballs.“You
canalwaystakethemoutifit’stoomuch.”
Igazeathim.Helookssowickedlytempting—unkempt,recentlyfuckedhair,
darkeyesdancingwitheroticthoughts,thatbeautifulsculpturedmouth,lips
raisedinasexy,amusedsmile.
“Okay,”Iacquiescesoftly.Hell,yes!Myinnergoddesshasfoundhervoice
andisshoutingfromtherooftops.
“Goodgirl,”Christiangrins.“Comehere,andI’llputthemin,onceyou’ve
putyourshoeson.”
Myshoes?Iturnandglanceatthedovegreysuedestilettosthatmatchthe
dressI’vechosentowear.
Humourhim!myinnergoddessbarksatme.
HeholdsouthishandtosupportmewhileIstepintotheChristianLouboutin
shoes,astealatthree-thousandtwohundredninety-fivedollars.Imustbeat
leastfiveinchestallernow.Heleadsmetothebedsideanddoesn’tsit,but
walksovertotheonlychairintheroom.
Pickingitup,hecarriesitoverandplacesitinfrontofme.
“WhenInod,youbenddownandholdontothechair.Understand?”His
voiceishusky.
“Yes.”
“Good.Nowopenyourmouth,”heorders,hisvoicestilllow.
IdoasI’mtold,thinkingthathe’sgoingtoputtheballsinmymouthagainto
lubricatethem.No,heslipshisindexfingerin.
Oh…
“Suck,”hesays.Ireachupandclasphishand,holdinghimsteady,anddoas
I’mtold—see,Icanbeobedient,whenIwant.
Hetastesofsoap…hmm.Isuckhard,andI’mrewardedwhenhiseyeswiden
andhislipspartasheinhales.I’mnotgoingtoneedanylubricantatthisrate.
HeputstheballsinhismouthasIfellatehisfinger,twirlingmytongueround
it.Whenhetriestowithdrawit,Iclampmyteethdown.
Hegrinsthenshakeshishead,admonishingme,soIletgo.Henods,andI
benddownandgraspthesidesofthechair.Hemovesmypantiestooneside
andveryslowlyslidesafingerintome,circlingleisurely,soIfeelhim,onall
sides.Ican’thelpthemoanthatescapesfrommylips.
Hewithdrawshisfingerbrieflyandwithtendercare,insertstheballsoneata
time,pushingthemdeepinsideme.Oncetheyareinposition,hesmoothes
mypantiesbackintoplaceandkissesmybackside.Runninghishandsup
eachofmylegsfromankletothigh,hegentlykissesthetopofeachthigh
wheremyhold-upsfinish.
“Youhavefine,finelegs,MissSteele,”hemurmurs.
Standing,hegraspsmyhipsandpullsmybehindagainsthimsoIfeelhis
erection.
“MaybeI’llhaveyouthiswaywhenwegethome,Anastasia.Youcanstand
now.”
Ifeelgiddy,beyondarousedastheweightoftheballspushandpullinside
me.LeaningdownfrombehindmeChristiankissesmyshoulder.
“IboughttheseforyoutoweartolastSaturday’sgala.”Heputshisarm
aroundmeandholdsouthishand.Inhispalmrestsasmallredboxwith
Cartierinscribedonthelid.“Butyouleftme,soIneverhadtheopportunity
togivethemtoyou.”
Oh!
“Thisismysecondchance,”hemurmurs,hisvoicestiffwithsomeunnamed
emotion.
He’snervous.
Tentatively,Ireachfortheboxandopenit.Insideshinesapairofdrop
earrings.Eachhasfourdiamonds,oneatthebase,thenagap,thenthree
perfectlyspaceddiamondshangingoneaftertheother.They’rebeautiful,
simple,andclassic.WhatIwouldchoosemyself,ifIwereevergiventhe
opportunitytoshopatCartier.
“They’relovely,”Iwhisper,andbecausetheyaresecond-chanceearrings,I
lovethem.
“Thankyou.”
Herelaxesagainstmeasthetensionleaveshisbody,andhekissesmy
shoulderagain.
“You’rewearingthesilversatindress?”heasks.
“Yes?Isthatokay?”
“Ofcourse.I’llletyougetready.”Heheadsoutthedoorwithoutabackward
glance.
Ihaveenteredanalternateuniverse.Theyoungwomanstaringbackatme
looksworthyofaredcarpet.Herstrapless,floor-length,silversatingownis
simplystunning.MaybeI’llwritetoCarolineActonmyself.It’sfittedand
flatterswhatlittlecurvesIhave.
Myhairfallsinsoftwavesaroundmyface,spillingovermyshoulderstomy
breasts.Ituckonesidebehindmyear,revealingmysecond-chanceearrings.I
havekeptmymakeuptoaminimum,anaturallook.Eyeliner,mascara,alittle
pinkblush,andpalepinklipstick.
Idon’treallyneedtheblush.Iamslightlyflushedfromtheconstant
movementofthesilverballs.Yes,they’llguaranteeIhavesomecolourinmy
cheekstonight.ShakingmyheadattheaudacityofChristian’seroticideas,I
leandowntocollectmysatinwrapandsilverclutchpurseandgoinsearchof
myFiftyShades.
HeistalkingtoTaylorandthreeothermeninthehallway,hisbacktome.
Theirsurprised,appreciativeexpressionsalertChristiantomypresence.He
turnsasIstandandwaitawkwardly.
Holycow!Mymouthdries.Helooksstunning…Blackdinnersuit,black
bowtie,andhisexpressionashegazesatmeisoneofawe.Hestrollstoward
meandkissesmyhair.
“Anastasia.Youlookbreath-taking.”
IflushatthiscomplimentinfrontofTaylorandtheothermen.
“Aglassofchampagnebeforewego?”
“Please,”Imurmur,fartooquickly.
ChristiannodstoTaylorwhoheadsintothefoyerwithhisthreecohorts.
Inthegreatroom,Christianretrievesabottleofchampagnefromthefridge.
“Securityteam?”Iask.
“Closeprotection.They’reunderTaylor’scontrol.He’strainedinthat,too.”
Christianhandsmeachampagneflute.
“He’sveryversatile.”
“Yes,heis.”Christiansmiles.“Youlooklovely,Anastasia.Cheers.”Heraises
hisglass,andIclinkitwithmine.Thechampagneisapalerosecolour.It
tastesdeliciouslycrispandlight.
“Howareyoufeeling?”heasks,hiseyesheated.
“Fine,thankyou.”Ismilesweetly,givingnothingaway,knowingfullwell
he’sreferringtothesilverballs.
Hesmirksatme.
“Here,you’regoingtoneedthis.”Hehandsmealargevelvetpouchthatwas
restingonthekitchenisland.“Openit,”hesaysbetweensipsofchampagne.
Intrigued,Ireachintothebagandpulloutanintricatesilvermasquerade
maskwithcobaltbluefeathersinaplumecrowningthetop.
“It’samaskedball,”hestatesmatter-of-factly.
“Isee.”Themaskisbeautiful.Asilverribbonisthreadedaroundtheedges
andexquisitesilverfiligreeisetchedaroundtheeyes.
“Thiswillshowoffyourbeautifuleyes,Anastasia.”
Igrinathim,shyly.
“Areyouwearingone?”
“Ofcourse.They’reveryliberatinginaway,”headds,raisinganeyebrow,
andhesmirks.
Oh.Thisisgoingtobefun.
“Come.Iwanttoshowyousomething.”Holdingouthishand,heleadsme
outintothehallwayandtoadoorbesidethestairs.Heopensit,revealinga
largeroomroughlythesamesizeashisplayroom,whichmustbedirectly
aboveus.Thisoneisfilledwithbooks.
Wow,alibrary,everywallcrammedfloortoceiling.Inthecentreisafull-size
billiardtableilluminatedbyalongtriangular-prism-shapedTiffanylamp.
“Youhavealibrary!”Isqueakinawe,overwhelmedwithexcitement.
“Yes,theballsroomasElliotcallsit.Theapartmentisquitespacious.I
realizedtoday,whenyoumentionedexploring,thatI’venevergivenyoua
tour.Wedon’thavetimenow,butIthoughtI’dshowyouthisroom,and
maybechallengeyoutoagameofbilliardsinthenot-too-distantfuture.”
Igrinathim.
“Bringiton.”Isecretlyhugmyselfwithglee.JoséandIbondedoverpool.
We’vebeenplayingforthelastthreeyears.Iamacewithacue.Joséhasbeen
agoodteacher.
“What?”Christianasks,amused.
Oh!IreallymuststopexpressingeveryemotionIfeeltheinstantIfeelit,I
scoldmyself.“Nothing,”Isayquickly.
Christiannarrowshiseyes.
“Well,maybeDoctorFlynncanuncoveryoursecrets.You’llmeethimthis
evening.”
“Theexpensivecharlatan?”Holyshit.
“Theverysame.He’sdyingtomeetyou.”
Christiantakesmyhandandgentlyskimshisthumbacrossmyknucklesas
wesitinthebackoftheAudiheadingnorth.Isquirm,andfeelthesensation
inmygroin.Iresisttheurgetomoan,asTaylorisinthefront,notwearinghis
iPod,withoneofthesecurityguyswhosenameIthinkisSawyer.
Iambeginningtofeeladull,pleasurableachedeepinmybelly,causedbythe
balls.
Idly,Iwonder,howlongwillIbeabletomanagewithoutsome,um…relief?
Icrossmylegs.AsIdo,somethingthat’sbeennigglingmeinthebackofmy
mindsuddenlysurfaces.
“Wheredidyougetthelipstick?”IaskChristianquietly.
Hesmirksatmeandpointstowardthefront.“Taylor,”hemouths.
Iburstoutlaughing.“Oh.”Andstopquickly—theballs.
Ibitemylip.Christiansmilesatme,hiseyesgleamingwickedly.Heknows
exactlywhathe’sdoing,sexybeastthatheis.
“Relax,”hebreathes.“Ifit’stoomuch…”Hisvoicetrailsoff,andhegently
kisseseachknuckleinturn,thengentlysucksthetipofmylittlefinger.
NowIknowhe’sdoingthisonpurpose.Iclosemyeyesasdarkdesire
unfoldsthroughoutmybody.Isurrenderbrieflytothesensation,mymuscles
clenchingdeepinsideme.
Ohmy.
WhenIopenmyeyesagain,Christianisregardingmeclosely,adarkprince.
Itmustbethedinnerjacketandbowtie,buthelooksolder,sophisticated,a
devastatinglyhandsomerouéwithlicentiousintent.
Hesimplytakesmybreathaway.I’minhissexualthrall,andifI’mtobelieve
him,he’sinmine.Thethoughtbringsasmiletomyface,andhisanswering
grinisblinding.
“Sowhatcanweexpectatthisevent?”
“Oh,theusualstuff,”Christiansaysbreezily.
“Notusualforme,”Iremindhim.
Christiansmilesfondlyandkissesmyhandagain.“Lotsofpeopleflashing
theircash.
Auction,raffle,dinner,dancing—mymotherknowshowtothrowaparty.”
Hesmilesandforthefirsttimeallday,Iallowmyselftofeelalittleexcited
aboutthisparty.
ThereisalineofexpensivecarsheadingupthedrivewayoftheGrey
mansion.Long,palepinkpaperlanternshangoverthedrive,andasweinch
closerintheAudi,Icanseetheyareeverywhere.Intheearlyeveninglight,
theylookmagical,asifwe’reenteringanenchantedkingdom.Iglanceat
Christian.Howsuitableformyprince—andmychildishexcitementblooms,
eclipsingallotherfeelings.
“Maskson,”Christiangrins,andashedonshissimpleblackmask,myprince
becomessomethingdarker,moresensual.
AllIcanseeofhisfaceishisbeautifulchiselledmouthandstrongjaw.
Holyfuck…Myheartbeatlurchesatthesightofhim.Ifastenmymaskand
grinathim,ignoringthehungerdeepinmybody.
Taylorpullsintothedriveway,andavaletopensChristian’sdoor.Sawyer
leapsouttoopenmine.
“Ready?”Christianasks.
“AsI’lleverbe.”
“Youlookbeautiful,Anastasia.”Hekissesmyhandandexitsthecar.
Adarkgreencarpetrunsalongthelawntoonesideofthehouse,leadingto
theimpressivegroundsattherear.Christianhasaprotectivearmaroundme,
restinghishandonmywaist,aswefollowthegreencarpetwithasteady
streamofSeattle’selitedressedintheirfineryandwearingallmannerof
masksthelanternslightingtheway.Twophotographersmarshalgueststo
poseforpicturesagainstthebackdropofanivy-strewnarbour.
“Mr.Grey!”oneofthephotographerscalls.Christiannodsin
acknowledgementandpullsmecloseasweposequicklyforaphoto.Howdo
theyknowit’shim?Histrademark,unrulycopperhairnodoubt.
“Twophotographers?”IaskChristian.
“OneisfromtheSeattleTimes;theotherisforasouvenir.We’llbeableto
buyacopylater.”
Oh,mypictureinthepressagain.Leilabrieflyentersmymind.Thisishow
shefoundme,posingwithChristian.Thethoughtisunsettling,thoughit’s
comfortingthatIamunrecognizablebeneathmymask.
Attheendoftheline,white-suitedserversholdtraysofglassesbrimming
withchampagne,andI’mgratefulwhenChristianpassesmeaglass—
effectivelydistractingmefrommydarkthoughts.
Weapproachalargewhitepergolahungwithsmallerversionsofthepaper
lanterns.
Beneathit,shinesablackandwhitecheckereddancefloorsurroundedbya
lowfencewithentrancesonthreesides.Ateachentrancestandtwoelaborate
icesculpturesofswans.Thefourthsideofthepergolaisoccupiedbyastage
whereastringquartetisplayingsoftly,ahaunting,etherealpieceIdon’t
recognize.Thestagelookssetforabigbandbutasthere’snosignofthe
musiciansyet.Ifigurethismustbeforlater.Takingmyhand,Christianleads
mebetweenswansontothedancefloorwheretheotherguestsare
congregating,chattingoverglassesofchampagne.
Towardtheshorelinestandsanenormousmarquee,openonthesidenearest
toussoIcanglimpsetheformallyarrangedtablesandchairs.Thereareso
many!
“Howmanypeoplearecoming?”IaskChristian,thrownbythescaleofthe
marquee.
“Ithinkaboutthreehundred.You’llhavetoaskmymother.”Hesmilesdown
atme,andmaybeit’sbecauseIcanonlyseehissmilethatlightsuphisface,
butmyinnergoddessswoons.
“Christian!”
Ayoungwomanappearsoutofthethrongandthrowsherarmsaroundhis
neck,andimmediatelyIknowit’sMia.She’sdressedinasleek,palepink,
full-lengthchiffongownwithastunning,delicatelydetailedVenetianmaskto
match.Shelooksamazing.Andforamoment,Ihaveneverfeltsogratefulfor
thedressChristianhasgivenme.
“Ana!Oh,darling,youlookgorgeous!”Shegivesmeaquickhug.“Youmust
comeandmeetmyfriends.NoneofthemcanbelievethatChristianfinally
hasagirlfriend.”
IshootaquickpanickedglanceatChristian,whoshrugsinaresignedI-
know-she’s-impossible-I-had-to-live-with-her-for-yearsway,andletMialead
meovertoagroupoffouryoungwomen,allexpensivelyattiredand
impeccablygroomed.
Miamakeshastyintroductions.Threeofthemaresweetandkind,butLily,I
thinkhernameis,regardsmesourlyfrombeneathherredmask.
“OfcourseweallthoughtChristianwasgay,”shesayssnidely,concealing
herrancourwithalarge,fakesmile.
Miapoutsather.
“Lily,behaveyourself.It’sobvioushehasexcellenttasteinwomen.Hewas
waitingfortherightonetocomealong,anditwasn’tyou!”
Lilyblushesthesamecolourashermask,asdoI.Couldthisbeanymore
uncomfortable?“Ladies,ifIcouldclaimmydateback,please?”Snakinghis
armaroundmywaist,Christianpullsmetohisside.Allfourwomenflush,
grinandfidget,hisdazzlingsmiledoingwhatitalwaysdoes.Miaglancesat
meandrollshereyes,andIhavetolaugh.
“Lovelytomeetyou,”Isayashedragsmeaway.
“Thankyou,”ImouthatChristianwhenwe’resomedistanceaway.
“IsawthatLilywaswithMia.Sheisonenastypieceofwork.”
“Shelikesyou,”Imutterdryly.
Heshudders.“Well,thefeelingisnotmutual.Come,letmeintroduceyouto
somepeople.”
Ispendthenexthalfhourinawhirlwindofintroductions.Imeettwo
Hollywoodactors,twomoreCEOs,andseveraleminentphysicians.Holyshit
…thereisnowayIamgoingtoremembereveryone’sname.
Christiankeepsmecloseathisside,andI’mgrateful.Frankly,thewealth,the
glamour,andthesheerlavishscaleoftheeventintimidatesme.Ihavenever
beentoanythinglikethisinmylife.
Thewhite-suitedserversmoveeffortlesslythroughthegrowingcrowdof
guestswithbottlesofchampagne,toppingoffmyglasswithworrying
regularity.Imustnotdrinktoomuch.Imustnotdrinktoomuch,Irepeatto
myself,butI’mbeginningtofeellight-headed,andIdon’tknowifit’sthe
champagne,thechargedatmosphereofmysteryandexcitementcreatedbythe
masks,orthesecretsilverballs.Thedullachebelowmywaistisbecoming
impossibletoignore.
“SoyouworkatSIP?”asksabaldinggentlemaninahalf-bear—orisita
dog?—mask.
“Heardrumoursofahostiletakeover.”
Iflush.Thereisahostiletakeoverfromamanwhohasmoremoneythan
senseandisastalkerparexcellence.
“I’mjustalowlyassistant,Mr.Eccles.Iwouldn’tknowaboutthesethings.”
ChristiansaysnothingandsmilesblandlyatEccles.
“Ladiesandgentlemen!”Themasterofceremonies,wearinganimpressive
blackandwhiteharlequinmask,interruptsus.“Pleasetakeyourseats.Dinner
isserved.”
Christiantakesmyhand,andwefollowthechatteringcrowdtothelarge
marquee.
Theinteriorisstunning.Threeenormous,shallowchandeliersthrowrainbow-
coloredsparklesovertheivorysilkliningoftheceilingandwalls.Theremust
beatleastthirtytables,andtheyremindmeoftheprivatediningroomatthe
Heathman—crystalglasses,crispwhitelinencoveringthetablesandchairs,
andinthecentre,anexquisitedisplayofpalepinkpeoniesgatheredarounda
silvercandelabra.Wrappedingossamersilkbesideitisabasketofgoodies.
Christianconsultstheseatingplanandleadsmetoatableinthecentre.Mia
andGracearealreadyinsitu,deepinconversationwithayoungmanIdon’t
know.GraceiswearingashimmeringmintgreengownwithaVenetianmask
tomatch.Shelooksradiant,notstressedatall,andshegreetsmewarmly.
“Ana,howdelightfultoseeyouagain!Andlookingsobeautiful,too.”
“Mother,”Christiangreetsherstifflyandkissesheronbothcheeks.
“Oh,Christian,soformal!”shescoldshimteasingly.
Grace’sparents,Mr.andMrs.Trevelyan,joinusatourtable.Theyseem
exuberantandyouthful,thoughit’sdifficulttotellbeneaththeirmatching
bronzemasks.TheyaredelightedtoseeChristian.
“Grandmother,Grandfather,mayIintroduceAnastasiaSteele?”
Mrs.Trevelyanisallovermelikearash.“Oh,he’sfinallyfoundsomeone,
howwonderfulandsopretty!WellIdohopeyoumakeanhonestmanof
him,”shegushes,shakingmyhand.
Holycow.Ithanktheheavensformymask.
“Mother,don’tembarrassAna.”Gracecomestomyrescue.
“Ignorethesillyoldcoot,m’dear.”Mr.Trevelyanshakesmyhand.“She
thinksbecauseshe’ssoold,shehasaGod-givenrighttosaywhatever
nonsensepopsintothatwoollyheadofhers.”
“Ana,thisismydate,Sean.”Miashylyintroducesheryoungman.Hegives
meawickedgrin,andhisbrowneyesdancewithamusementasweshake
hands.
“Pleasedtomeetyou,Sean.”
ChristianshakesSean’shandasheregardshimshrewdly.Don’ttellmethat
poorMiasuffersfromheroverbearingbrother,too.IsmileatMiain
sympathy.
LanceandJanine,Grace’sfriends,arethelastcoupleatourtable,butthereis
stillnosignofMr.Grey.
Abruptly,there’sthehissofamicrophone,andMr.Grey’svoiceboomsover
thePAsystem,causingthebabbleofvoicestodiedown.Carrickstandsona
smallstageatoneendofthemarquee,wearinganimpressive,gold,
Punchinellomask.
“Welcome,ladiesandgentleman,toourannualcharityball.Ihopethatyou
enjoywhatwehavelaidoutforyoutonightandthatyou’lldigdeepintoyour
pocketstosupportthefantasticworkthatourteamdoeswithCoping
Together.Asyouknow,it’sacausethatisveryclosetomywife’sheart,and
mine.”
IpeeknervouslyatChristian,whoisstaringimpassively,Ithink,atthestage.
Heglancesatmeandsmirks.
“I’llhandyouovernowtoourmasterofceremonies.Pleasebeseated,and
enjoy,”
Carrickfinishes.
Politeapplausefollows,thenthebabbleinthetentstartsagain.Iamseated
betweenChristianandhisgrandfather.Iadmirethesmallwhiteplacecard
withfinesilvercalligraphythatbearsmynameasawaiterlightsthe
candelabrawithalongtaper.Carrickjoinsus,kissingmeonbothcheeks,
surprisingme.
“Goodtoseeyouagain,Ana,”hemurmurs.Hereallylooksverystrikingin
hisextraordinarygoldmask.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,pleasenominateatablehead,”theMCcallsout.
“Ooo—me,me!”saysMiaimmediately,bouncingenthusiasticallyinherseat.
“Inthecentreofthetableyouwillfindanenvelope,”theMCcontinues.
“Wouldeveryonefind,beg,borrow,orstealabillofthehighestdenomination
youcanmanage,writeyournameonit,andplaceitinsidetheenvelope.
Tableheads,pleaseguardtheseenvelopescarefully.Wewillneedthemlater.”
Holycrap.Ihaven’tbroughtanymoneywithme.Howstupid—it’sacharity
event!
Fishingouthiswallet,Christianproducestwohundred-dollarbills.
“Here,”hesays.
What?
“I’llpayyouback,”Iwhisper.
Hismouthtwistsslightly,andIknowhe’snothappy,buthedoesn’tcomment.
Isignmynameusinghisfountainpen—it’sblack,withawhiteflowermotif
onthecap—andMiapassestheenveloperound.
InfrontofmeIfindanothercardinscribedwithsilvercalligraphy—our
menu.
Well,thataccountsforthenumberofcrystalglassesineverysizethatcrowd
myplacesetting.Ourwaiterisback,offeringwineandwater.Behindme,the
sidesofthetentthroughwhichweenteredarebeingclosed,whileatthefront,
twoserverspullbackthecanvas,revealingthesunsetoverSeattleand
MeydenbauerBay.
It’sanabsolutelybreath-takingview,thetwinklinglightsofSeattleinthe
distanceandtheorange,duskycalmofthebayreflectingtheopalsky.Wow.
It’ssocalmandpeaceful.
Tenservers,eachholdingaplate,cometostandbetweenus.Onasilentcue,
theyserveusourstartersincompletesynchronization,thenvanishagain.The
salmonlooksdelicious,andIrealizeIamfamished.
“Hungry?”ChristianmurmurssoonlyIcanhear.Iknowhe’snotreferringto
thefood,andthemusclesdeepinmybellyrespond.
“Very,”Iwhisper,boldlymeetinghisgaze,andChristian’slipspartashe
inhales.
Ha!See…twocanplayatthisgame.
Christian’sgrandfatherengagesmeinconversationimmediately.He’sa
wonderfuloldman,soproudofhisdaughterandthreechildren.
ItisweirdtothinkofChristianasachild.Thememoryofhisburnscarscome
unbiddentomymind,butIquicklyquashit.Idon’twanttothinkaboutthat
now,thoughironically,it’sthereasonbehindthisparty.
IwishKatewasherewithElliot.Shewouldfitinsowell—thesheernumber
offorksandkniveslaidoutbeforeherwouldn’tdauntKate—shewould
commandthetable.IimagineherdukingitoutwithMiaoverwhoshouldbe
tablehead.Thethoughtmakesmesmile.
Theconversationatthetableebbsandflows.Miaisentertaining,asusual,
andquiteeclipsespoorSean,whomostlystaysquietlikeme.Christian’s
grandmotheristhemostvocal.She,too,hasabitingsenseofhumour,usually
attheexpenseofherhusband.IbegintofeelalittlesorryforMr.Trevelyan.
ChristianandLancetalkanimatedlyaboutadeviceChristian’scompanyis
developing,inspiredbySchumacher’sprincipleSmallisBeautiful.It’shard
tokeepup.Christianseemsintentonempoweringimpoverishedcommunities
allovertheworldwithwind-uptechnology—devicesthatneednoelectricity
orbatteriesandminimalmaintenance.
Watchinghiminfullflowisastonishing.He’spassionateandcommittedto
improvingthelivesofthelessfortunate.Throughhistelecommunications
company,he’sintentonbeingfirsttomarketwithawind-upmobilephone.
Whoa.Ihadnoidea.ImeanIknewabouthispassionaboutfeedingthe
world,butthis…
LanceseemsunabletocomprehendChristian’splantogivethetechnology
awayandnotpatentit.IwondervaguelyhowChristianmadeallhismoneyif
he’ssowillingtogiveitallaway.
Throughoutdinnerasteadystreamofmeninsmartlytailoreddinnerjackets
anddarkmasksstopbythetable,keentomeetChristian,shakehishand,and
exchangepleasantries.
Heintroducesmetosomebutnotothers.I’mintriguedtoknowhowandwhy
hemakesthedistinction.
Duringonesuchconversation,Mialeansacrossandsmiles.
“Ana,willyouhelpintheauction?”
“Ofcourse,”Irespondonlytoowilling.
Bythetimedessertisserved,nighthasfallen,andI’mreallyuncomfortable.I
needtogetridoftheballs.BeforeIcanexcusemyself,themasterof
ceremoniesappearsatourtable,andwithhim—ifI’mnotmistaken—isMiss
EuropeanPigtails.
What’shername?Hansel,Gretel…Gretchen.
She’smaskedofcourse,butIknowit’sherwhenhergazedoesn’tmove
beyondChristian.Sheblushes,andselfishlyI’mbeyondpleasedthat
Christiandoesn’tacknowledgeheratall.TheMCasksforourenvelopeand
withaverypracticedandeloquentflourish,asksGracetopulloutthe
winningbill.It’sSean’s,andthesilk-wrappedbasketisawardedtohim.I
applaudpolitely,butI’mfindingitimpossibletoconcentrateonanymoreof
theproceedings.
“Ifyou’llexcuseme,”ImurmurtoChristian.
Helooksatmeintently.
“Doyouneedthepowderroom?”
Inod.
“I’llshowyou,”hesaysdarkly.
WhenIstand,alltheothermenroundthetablestandwithme.Oh,such
manners.
“No,Christian!You’renottakingAna—Iwill.”
MiaisonherfeetbeforeChristiancanprotest.Hisjawtenses,Iknowhe’snot
pleased.
Quitefrankly,neitheramI.Ihave…needs.Ishrugapologeticallyathim,and
hesitsdownquickly,resigned.
Onourreturn,Ifeelalittlebetter,thoughthereliefofremovingtheballshas
notbeenasinstantaneousasI’dhoped.They’renowstashedsafelyinmy
clutchpurse.
WhydidIthinkIcouldlastthewholeevening?Iamstillyearning—perhapsI
canpersuadeChristiantotakemetotheboathouselater.Iflushatthethought
andglanceathimasItakemyseat.Hestaresatme,theghostofasmile
crossinghislips.
Phew…he’snolongermadatamissedopportunity,thoughmaybeIam.I
feelfrustrated—irritableeven.Christiansqueezesmyhand,andweboth
listenattentivelytoCarrick,whoisbackonstagetalkingaboutCoping
Together.Christianpassesmeanothercard—alistoftheauctionprizes.Iscan
themquickly.
Holyshit.IblinkupatChristian.
“YouownpropertyinAspen?”Ihiss.Theauctionisunderway,andIhaveto
keepmyvoicedown.
Henods,surprisedatmyoutburstandirritated,Ithink.Heputshisfingerto
hislipstosilenceme.
“Doyouhavepropertyelsewhere?”Iwhisper.Henodsagainandinclineshis
headtoonesideinawarning.
Thewholeroomeruptswithcheeringandapplause;oneoftheprizeshas
gonefortwelvethousanddollars.
“I’lltellyoulater,”Christiansaysquietly.“Iwantedtocomewithyou,”he
addsrathersulkily.
Well,youdidn’t.IpoutandIrealizethatI’mstillquerulous,andnodoubt,
it’sthefrustratingeffectoftheballs.MymooddarkensafterseeingMrs.
Robinsononthelistofgenerousdonors.
IglancearoundthemarqueetoseeifIcanspother,butIcan’tseehertell-
talehair.
SurelyChristianwouldhavewarnedmeifshewasinvitedtonight.Isitand
stew,applaudingwhennecessary,aseachlotissoldforastonishingamounts
ofmoney.
ThebiddingmovestoChristian’splaceinAspenandreachestwentythousand
dollars.
“Goingonce,goingtwice,”theMCcalls.
AndIdon’tknowwhatpossessesme,butIsuddenlyhearmyownvoice
ringingoutclearlyoverthethrong.
“Twenty-fourthousanddollars!”
Everymaskatthetableturnstomeinshockedamazement,thebiggest
reactionofallcomingfrombesideme.Ihearhissharpintakeofbreathand
feelhiswrathwashingovermelikeatidalwave.
“Twenty-fourthousanddollars,tothelovelyladyinsilver,goingonce,going
twice…
Sold!”
Holyshit,didIreallyjustdothat?Itmustbethealcohol.I’vehadchampagne
plusfourglassesoffourdifferentwines.IglanceupatChristianwho’sbusy
applauding.
Crap,he’sgoingtobesoangry,andwe’vebeengettingonsowell.My
subconscioushasfinallydecidedtomakeanappearance,andshe’swearing
herEdvardMunchScreamface.Christianleansovertome,alargefakesmile
plasteredacrosshisface.Hekissesmycheekandthenmovescloserto
whisperinmyearinaverycold,controlledvoice.
“Idon’tknowwhethertoworshipatyourfeetorspankthelivingshitoutof
you.”
Oh,IknowwhatIwantrightnow.Igazeupathim,blinkingthroughmy
mask.IjustwishIcouldreadwhat’sinhiseyes.
“I’lltakeoptiontwo,please,”Iwhisperfranticallyastheapplausediesdown.
Hislipspartasheinhalessharply.Ohthatchiselledmouth—Iwantitonme,
now.Iacheforhim.Hegivesmearadiantsinceresmilethatleavesme
breathless.
“Suffering,areyou?We’llhavetoseewhatwecandoaboutthat,”he
murmursasherunshisfingersalongmyjaw.
Histouchresonatesdeep,deepinsidewherethatachehasspawnedand
grown.Iwanttojumphimrighthere,rightnow,butwesitbacktowatchthe
auctionofthenextlot.
Icanbarelysitstill.Christiandrapesanarmaroundmyshoulders,histhumb
rhythmicallystrokingmyback,sendingdelicioustinglesdownmyspine.His
freehandclaspsmine,bringingittohislips,thenlettingitrestonhislap.
Slowlyandsurreptitiously,soIdon’trealizehisgameuntilit’stoolate,he
easesmyhanduphislegandagainsthiserection.Igasp,andmyeyesdartin
panicaroundthetable,butalleyesarefixedonthestage.Thankheavensfor
mymask.
Takingfulladvantage,Islowlycaresshim,lettingmyfingersexplore.
Christiankeepshishandovermine,hidingmyboldfingers,whilehisthumb
skatessoftlyoverthenapeofmyneck.Hismouthopensashegaspssoftly,
andit’stheonlyreactionIcanseetomyinexperiencedtouch.Butitmeansso
much.Hewantsme.Everythingsouthofmynavelcontracts.Thisis
becomingunbearable.
AweekbyLakeAdrianainMontanaisthefinallotforauction.OfcourseMr.
andDr.
GreyhaveahouseinMontana,andthebiddingescalatesrapidly,butIam
barelyawareofit.Ifeelhimgrowingbeneathmyfingers,anditmakesme
feelsopowerful.
“Sold,foronehundredtenthousanddollars!”theMCdeclaresvictoriously.
Thewholeroomburstsintoapplause,andreluctantlyIfollowasdoes
Christian,ruiningourfun.
Heturnstomeandhislipstwitch.“Ready?”hemouthsovertherapturous
cheering.
“Yes,”Imouthback
“Ana!”Miacalls.“It’stime!”
What?No.Notagain!“Timeforwhat?”
“TheFirstDanceAuction.Comeon!”Shestandsandholdsoutherhand.
IglanceatChristianwhois,Ithink,scowlingatMia,andIdon’tknow
whethertolaughorcry,butit’slaughterthatwins.Isuccumbtoacathartic
bubbleofschoolgirlgiggles,aswearethwartedoncemorebythetall,pink
powerhousethatisMiaGrey.Christianpeersatme,andafterabeat,there’sa
ghostofasmileonhislips.
“Thefirstdancewillbewithme,okay?Anditwon’tbeonthedancefloor,”
hemurmurslasciviouslyintomyear.Mygigglessubsideasanticipationfans
theflamesofmyneed.Oh,yes!Myinnergoddessperformsaperfecttriple
Salchowinhericeskates.
“Ilookforwardtoit.”Ileanoverandplantasoft,chastekissonhismouth.
Glancingaround,Irealizethatourfellowguestsatthetableareastonished.
Ofcourse,they’veneverseenChristianwithadatebefore.
Hesmilesbroadlyatme.Andhelooks…happy.Wow.
“Comeon,Ana,”Mianags.Takingheroutstretchedhand,Ifollowheronto
thestagewheretenmoreyoungwomenhaveassembled,andInotewith
vagueuneasethatLilyisoneofthem.
“Gentlemen,thehighlightoftheevening!”theMCboomsoverthebabbleof
voices.
“Themomentyou’veallbeenwaitingfor!Thesetwelvelovelyladieshaveall
agreedtoauctiontheirfirstdancetothehighestbidder!”
Ohno.Iblushfromheadtotoe.Ihadn’trealizedwhatthismeant.How
humiliating!
“It’sforagoodcause,”Miahissesatme,sensingmydiscomfort.“Besides,
Christianwillwin.”Sherollshereyes.“Ican’timaginehimlettinganyone
outbidhim.Hehasn’ttakenhiseyesoffyouallevening.”
Yes,focusonthegoodcause,andChristianisboundtowin.Let’sfaceit,he’s
notshortofadimeortwo.
Butitmeansspendingmoremoneyonyou!mysubconscioussnarlsatme.But
Idon’twanttodancewithanyoneelse—Ican’tdancewithanyoneelse—and
it’snotspendingmoneyonme,he’sdonatingittothecharity.Likethetwenty-
fourthousanddollarshe’salreadyspent?Mysubconsciousnarrowshereyes.
Shit.Iseemtohavegottenawaywithmyimpulsivebid.WhyamIarguing
withmyself?“Now,gentlemen,praygatherround,andtakeagoodlookat
whatcouldbeyoursforthefirstdance.Twelvecomelyandcompliant
wenches.”
Jeez!IfeellikeI’minameatmarket.Iwatch,horrified,asatleasttwenty
menmaketheirwaytothestagearea,Christianincluded,movingwitheasy
gracebetweenthetablesandpausingtosayafewhellosontheway.Oncethe
biddersareassembled,theMCbegins.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,inthetraditionofthemasqueradeweshallmaintain
themysterybehindthemasksandsticktofirstnamesonly.Firstupwehave
thelovelyJada.”
Jadaisgigglinglikeaschoolgirl,too.MaybeIwon’tbesooutofplace.She’s
dressedheadtofootinnavytaffetawithamatchingmask.Twoyoungmen
stepforwardexpectantly.LuckyJada.
“JadaspeaksfluentJapanese,isaqualifiedfighterpilot,andanOlympic
gymnast…
hmm.”TheMCwinks.“Gentleman,whatamIbid?”
Jadagapes,astoundedattheMC;obviously,he’stalkingcompletegarbage.
Shegrinsshylybackatthetwocontenders.
“Athousandbucks!”onecalls.
Veryquicklythebiddingescalatestofivethousanddollars.
“Goingonce…goingtwice…sold!”theMCdeclaresloudly,“tothe
gentlemaninthemask!”Andofcourseallthemenarewearingmasksso
therearehootsoflaughter,applause,andcheering.Jadabeamsather
purchaserandquicklyexitsthestage.
“See?Thisisfun!”whispersMia.“IhopeChristianwinsyou,though…We
don’twantabrawl,”sheadds.
“Brawl?”Ianswerhorrified.
“Ohyes.Hewasveryhot-headedwhenhewasyounger.”Sheshudders.
Christianbrawling?Refined,sophisticated,likes-Tudor-choral-music
Christian?Ican’tseeit.TheMCdistractsmewithhisnextintroduction—a
youngwomaninred,withlongjet-blackhair.
“Gentlemen,mayIpresentthewonderfulMariah.Whatarewegoingtodo
aboutMariah?She’sanexperiencedmatador,playsthecellotoconcert
standard,andshe’sachampionpole-vaulter…howaboutthat,gentlemen?
WhatamIbid,please,foradancewiththedelightfulMariah?”
MariahglaresattheMCandsomeoneyells,veryloudly,“Threethousand
dollars!”It’samaskedmanwithblondhairandbeard.
Thereisonecounter-bid,butMariahsellsforfourthousanddollars.
Christianiswatchingmelikeahawk.BrawlerTrevelyan-Grey—whowould
haveknown?
“Howlongago?”IaskMia.
Sheglancesatme,nonplussed.
“HowlongagowasChristianbrawling?”
“Earlyteens.Drovemyparentscrazy,cominghomewithcutlipsandblack
eyes.Hewasexpelledfromtwoschools.Heinflictedsomeseriousdamage
onhisopponents.”
Igapeather.
“Hasn’thetoldyou?”Shesighs.“Hegotquiteabadrepamongmyfriends.
Hewasreallypersonanongrataforafewyears.Butitstoppedwhenhewas
aboutfifteenorsixteen.”Sheshrugs.
Holyfuck.Anotherpieceofthejigsawfallsintoplace.
“So,whatamIbidforthegorgeousJill?”
“Fourthousanddollars,”adeepvoicecallsfromtheleftside.Jillsquealsin
delight.
Istoppayingattentiontotheauction.SoChristianwasinthatkindoftrouble
atschool,fighting.Iwonderwhy.Istareathim.Lilyiswatchingusclosely.
“Andnow,allowmetointroducethebeautifulAna.”
Ohshit,that’sme.IglancenervouslyatMia,andsheshoosmecentrestage.
Fortunately,Idon’tfallover,butstandembarrassedashellondisplayfor
everyone.WhenIlookatChristian,he’ssmirkingatme.Thebastard.
“BeautifulAnaplayssixmusicalinstruments,speaksfluentMandarin,andis
keenonyoga…well,gentlemen—”Beforehecanevenfinishhissentence
Christianinterruptshim,glaringattheMCthroughhismask.
“Tenthousanddollars.”IhearLily’sgaspofdisbeliefbehindme.
Ohfuck.
“Fifteen.”
What?Weallturnasonetoatall,impeccablydressedmanstandingtotheleft
ofthestage.IblinkatFifty.Shit,whatwillhemakeofthis?Buthe’s
scratchinghischinandgivingthestrangeranironicsmile.It’sobvious
Christianknowshim.ThestrangernodspolitelyatChristian.
“Well,gentlemen!Wehavehighrollersinthehousethisevening.”TheMC’s
excitementemanatesthroughhisharlequinmaskasheturnstobeamat
Christian.Thisisagreatshow,butit’satmyexpense.Iwanttowail.
“Twenty,”countersChristianquietly.
Thebabbleofthecrowdhasdied.Everyoneisstaringatme,Christian,and
Mr.Mysteriousbythestage.
“Twenty-five,”thestrangersays.
Couldthisbeanymoreembarrassing?
Christianstaresathimimpassively,buthe’samused.Alleyesareon
Christian.What’shegoingtodo?Myheartisinmymouth.Ifeelsick.
“Onehundredthousanddollars,”hesayshisvoiceringingclearandloud
throughthemarquee.
“Whatthefuck?”Lilyhissesaudiblybehindme,andageneralgaspof
dismayandamusementripplesthroughthecrowd.Thestrangerholdshis
handsupindefeat,laughing,andChristiansmirksathim.Fromthecornerof
myeye,IcanseeMiabouncingupanddownwithglee.Mysubconsciousis
gazingatChristian,utterlygobsmacked.
“One-hundredthousanddollarsforthelovelyAna!Goingonce…going
twice…”
TheMCstaresatthestrangerwhoshakeshisheadwithmockregretand
bowschivalrously.
“Sold!”theMCcriesouttriumphantly.
Inadeafeningroundofapplauseandcheering,Christianstepsforwardtotake
myhandandhelpmefromthestage.HegazesatmewithanamusedgrinasI
makemywaydown,kissesthebackofmyhandthentucksitintothecrook
ofhisarm,andleadsmetowardthemarquee’sexit.
“Whowasthat?”Iask.
Hegazesdownatme.“Someoneyoucanmeetlater.Rightnow,Iwantto
showyousomething.WehaveaboutthirtyminutesuntiltheFirstDance
Auctionfinishes.ThenwehavetobebackonthedancefloorsothatIcan
enjoythatdanceI’vepaidfor.”
“Averyexpensivedance,”Imutterdisapprovingly.
“I’msureit’llbewortheverysinglecent.”Hesmilesdownatmewickedly.
Oh,hehasaglorioussmile,andtheacheisback,blossominginmybody.
We’reoutonthelawn.Ithoughtwewouldbeheadingtotheboathouse,but
disappointinglyweseemtobeheadingforthedancefloorwherethebigband
isnowsettingup.Thereareatleasttwentymusicians,andafewguestsare
millingabout,furtivelysmoking—butsincemostoftheactionisbackinthe
marquee,wedon’tattracttoomuchattention.
ChristianleadsmetotherearofthehouseandopensaFrenchwindow
leadingintoalargecomfortablesittingroomthatI’venotseenbefore.He
walksthroughthedesertedhalltowardthesweepingstaircasewithitselegant,
polishedwoodenbalustrade.Takingmyhandfromthecrookofhisarm,he
leadsmeuptothesecondfloorandupanotherflightofstairstothethird.
Openingawhitedoor,heushersmeintooneofthebedrooms.
“Thiswasmyroom,”hesaysquietly,standingbythedoorandlockingit
behindhim.
It’slarge,stark,andsparselyfurnished.Thewallsarewhiteasisthefurniture;
aspaciousdoublebed,adeskandchair,shelvescrammedwithbooksand
linedwithvarioustrophiesforkickboxingbythelookofthem.Thewallsare
hungwithmovieposters:TheMatrix,FightClub,TheTrumanShow,andtwo
framedpostersfeaturingkickboxers.OneisnamedGuiseppeDeNatale—I’ve
neverheardofhim.
Butwhatcatchesmyeyeisthewhitepinboardabovethedesk,studdedwith
amyriadofphotographs,Marinerspennants,andticketstubs.It’sasliceof
youngChristian.Myeyescomebacktothemagnificent,beautifulmannow
standinginthecentreoftheroom.
Helooksatmedarkly,broodingandsexy.
“I’veneverbroughtagirlinhere,”hemurmurs.
“Never?”Iwhisper.
Heshakeshishead.
Iswallowconvulsively,andtheachethathasbeenbotheringmeforthelast
coupleofhoursisroaringnow,rawandwanting.Seeinghimstandingthere
ontheroyalbluecarpetinthatmask…it’sbeyonderotic.Iwanthim.Now.
AnywayIcangethim.Ihavetoresistlaunchingmyselfathimandripping
hisclothesoff.Hewaltzesovertomeslowly.
“Wedon’thavelong,Anastasia,andthewayI’mfeelingrightthismoment,
wewon’tneedlong.Turnround.Letmegetyououtofthatdress.”
Iturnandstareatthedoor,gratefulthathe’slockedit.Bendingdownhe
whisperssoftlyinmyear,“Keepthemaskon.”
Igroanasmybodyclenchesinresponse.He’snoteventouchedmeyet.
Hegraspsthetopofmydress,hisfingersslidingagainstmyskin,andthe
touchreverberatesthroughmybody.Inoneswiftmove,heopensthezipper.
Holdingmydress,hehelpsmetostepoutofit,thenturnsanddrapesit
artfullyoverthebackofachair.Removinghisjacket,heplacesitovermy
dress.Hepauses,andstaresatmeforamoment,drinkingmein.I’minthe
basqueandmatchingpanties,andIrevelinhissensuousgaze.
“Youknow,Anastasia,”hesayssoftlyashestalkstowardme,undoinghis
bowtiesoithangsfromeithersideofhisneck,thenundoingthetopthree
buttonsofhisshirt.“Iwassomadwhenyouboughtmyauctionlot.All
mannerofideasranthroughmyhead.Ihadtoremindmyselfthatpunishment
isoffthemenu.Butthenyouvolunteered.”Hegazesdownatmethroughhis
mask.“Whydidyoudothat?”hewhispers.
“Volunteer?Idon’tknow.Frustration…toomuchalcohol…worthycause,”
Imuttermeekly,shrugging.Maybetogethisattention?
Ineededhimthen.Ineedhimmorenow.Theacheisworse,andIknowhe
cansootheit,calmthisroaring,salivatingbeastinmewiththebeastinhim.
Hismouthpressesintoaline,andheslowlylickshisupperlip.Iwantthat
tongueonme.
“IvowedtomyselfIwouldnotspankyouagain,evenifyoubeggedme.”
“Please,”Ibeg.
“ButthenIrealized,you’reprobablyveryuncomfortableatthemoment,and
it’snotsomethingyou’reusedto.”Hesmirksatmeknowingly,arrogant
bastard,butIdon’tcarebecausehe’sabsolutelyright.
“Yes,”Ibreathe.
“So,theremightbeacertain…latitude.IfIdothis,youmustpromiseme
onething.”
“Anything.”
“Youwillsafewordifyouneedto,andIwilljustmakelovetoyou,okay?”
“Yes.”I’mpanting.Iwanthishandsonme.
Heswallows,thentakesmyhand,andmovestowardthebed.Throwingthe
duvetaside,hesitsdown,grabsapillow,andplacesitbesidehim.Hegazes
upatmestandingbesidehimandsuddenlytugshardonmyhandsothatIfall
acrosshislap.Heshiftsslightlysomybodyisrestingonthebed,mycheston
thepillow,myfacetooneside.Leaningover,hesweepsmyhairovermy
shoulderandrunshisfingersthroughtheplumeoffeathersonmymask.
“Putyourhandsbehindyourback,”hemurmurs.
Oh!Heremoveshisbowtieandusesittoquicklybindmywristssothatmy
handsaretiedbehindme,restinginthesmallofmyback.
“Youreallywantthis,Anastasia?”
Iclosemyeyes.ThisisthefirsttimesinceImethimthatIreallywantthis.I
needit.
“Yes,”Iwhisper.
“Why?”heaskssoftlyashecaressesmybehindwithhispalm.
Igroanassoonashishandmakescontactwithmyskin.Idon’tknowwhy…
Youtellmenottooverthink.Afteradayliketoday—arguingaboutthemoney,
Leila,Mrs.Robinson,thedossieronme,theroadmap,thislavishparty,the
masks,thealcohol,thesilverballs,theauction…Iwantthis.
“DoIneedareason?”
“No,baby,youdon’t,”hesays.“I’mjusttryingtounderstandyou.”Hisleft
handcurlsroundmywaist,holdingmeinplaceashispalmleavesmybehind
andlandshard,justabovethejunctionofmythighs.Thepainconnects
directlywiththeacheinmybellyOhman…Imoanloudly.Hehitsmeagain,
inexactlythesameplace.Igroanagain.
“Two,”hemurmurs.“We’llgowithtwelve.”
Ohmy!Thisfeelsdifferentthanthelasttime—socarnal,so…necessary.He
caressesmybehindwithhislong-fingeredhands,andI’mhelpless,trussedup
andpressedintothemattress,athismercy,andofmyownfreewill.Hehits
meagain,slightlytotheside,andagain,totheotherside,thenpausesashe
slowlypeelsmypantiesdownandpullsthemoff.
Hegentlytrailshispalmacrossmybehindagainbeforecontinuingmy
spanking—eachstingingsmacktakingtheedgeoffmyneed—orfuellingit—
Idon’tknow.Isurrendermyselftotherhythmofblows,absorbingeachone,
savouringeachone.
“Twelve,”hemurmurshisvoicelowandharsh.Hecaressesmybehindagain
andtrailshisfingersdowntowardmysexandslowlysinkstwofingersinside
me,movingtheminacircle,roundandroundandround,torturingme.
Imoanloudlyasmybodytakesover,andIcomeandcome,convulsing
aroundhisfingers.It’ssointense,unexpected,andquick.
“That’sright,baby,”hemurmursappreciatively.Heuntiesmywrists,keeping
hisfingersinsidemeasIliepantingandspentoverhim.
“I’venotfinishedwithyouyet,Anastasia,”hesaysandshiftswithout
removinghisfingers.HeeasesmykneesontothefloorsothatnowI’m
leaningoverthebed.Hekneelsonthefloorbehindmeandundoeshiszipper.
Heslideshisfingersoutofme,andIhearthefamiliartearofafoilpacket.
“Openyourlegs,”hegrowlsandIcomply.Hestrokesmybehindandeases
intome.
“Thisisgoingtobequick,baby,”hemurmursandgrabbingmyhips,heeases
outthenslamsintome.
“Ah!”Icryoutbutthefullnessisheavenly.He’shittingthebellyachesquare
on,againandagain,eradicatingitwitheachsharp,sweetthrust.Thefeelingis
mind-blowing,justwhatIneed.Ipushbacktomeethim,thrustforthrust.
“Ana,no,”hegrunts,tryingtostillme.ButIwanthimtoomuch,andIgrind
againsthim,matchinghimthrustforthrust.
“Ana,shit,”hehissesashecomes,andthetorturedsoundsetsmeoffagain,
spirallingintoahealingorgasmthatgoesonandonandwringsmeoutand
leavesmespentandbreathless.
Christianbendsandkissesmyshoulderthenpullsoutofme.Placinghisarms
aroundme,herestshisheadinthemiddleofmyback,andwelielikethis,
bothkneelingatthebedside,forwhat?Seconds?Minutesevenasour
breathingcalms.Mybellyachehasdisappeared,andallIfeelisasoothing,
satisfyingserenity.
Christianstirsandkissesmyback.“Ibelieveyouowemeadance,Miss
Steele,”hemurmurs.
“Hmm,”Irespond,savouringtheabsenceofachinessandbaskinginthe
afterglow.
Hesitsbackonhisheelsandpullsmeoffthebedontohislap.“Wedon’t
havelong.
Comeon.”Hekissesmyhairandforcesmetostand.
Igrumblebutsitbackdownonthebedandcollectmypantiesfromthefloor
andscoopthemon.LazilyIwalktothechairtoretrievemydress.Inotewith
dispassionateinterestthatIdidnotremovemyshoesduringourillicittryst.
Christianistyinghisbowtie,havingfinishedstraighteninghimselfandthe
bed.
AsIslipmydressbackon,Icheckoutthephotographsonthepinboard.
Christianasasullenteenwasgorgeouseventhen:withElliotandMiaonthe
skislopes;onhisowninParis,theArcdeTriompheservingasagiveaway
background;inLondon;NewYork;theGrandCanyon;SydneyOperaHouse;
eventheGreatWallofChina.MasterGreywaswelltravelledatayoungage.
Thereareticketstubstovariousconcerts:U2,Metallica,TheVerve,Sheryl
Crow,theNewYorkPhilharmonicperformingProkofiev’sRomeoandJuliet
—whataneclecticmix!
Andinthecorner,there’sapassport-sizephotographofayoungwoman.It’s
inblackandwhite.Shelooksfamiliar,butforthelifeofme,Ican’tplaceher.
NotMrs.Robinson,thankheavens.
“Who’sthis?”Iask.
“Nooneofconsequence,”hemuttersasheslipsonhisjacketandstraightens
hisbowtie.“ShallIzipyouup?”
“Please.Thenwhyissheonyourpinboard?”
“Anoversightonmypart.How’smytie?”Heraiseshischinlikeasmallboy,
andIgrinandstraightenitforhim.
“Nowit’sperfect.”
“Likeyou,”hemurmursandgrabsme,kissingmepassionately.“Feeling
better?”
“Much,thankyou,Mr.Grey.”
“Thepleasurewasallmine,MissSteele.”
Theguestsareassemblingonthedancefloor.Christiangrinsatme—we’ve
madeitjustintime—andheleadsmeontothecheckeredfloor.
“Andnow,ladiesandgentlemen,it’stimeforthefirstdance.Mr.andDr.
Grey,areyouready?”Carricknodsinagreement,hisarmsaroundGrace.
“LadiesandgentlemenoftheFirstDanceAuction,areyouready?”Weall
nodinagreement.MiaiswithsomeoneIdon’trecognize.Iwonderwhat
happenedtoSean?
“Thenweshallbegin.Takeitaway,Sam!”
Ayoungmanstrollsontothestageamidwarmapplause,turnstotheband
behindhimandsnapshisfingers.Thefamiliarstrainsof“I’veGotYouUnder
MySkin”filltheair.
Christiansmilesdownatme,takesmeinhisarms,andstartstomove.Oh,he
dancessowell,makingiteasytofollow.Wegrinateachotherlikeidiotsas
hewhirlsmearoundthedancefloor.
“Ilovethissong,”Christianmurmurs,gazingdownatme.“Seemsvery
fitting.”He’snolongergrinning,butserious.
“You’reundermyskin,too,”Irespond.“Oryouwereinyourbedroom.”
Hepursueshislipsbuthe’sunabletohidehisamusement.
“MissSteele,”headmonishesmeteasingly,“Ihadnoideayoucouldbeso
crude.”
“Mr.Grey,neitherdidI.Ithinkit’sallmyrecentexperiences.They’vebeen
aneducation.”
“Forbothofus.”Christianisseriousagain,anditcouldjustbethetwoofus
andtheband.Weareinourownprivatebubble.
Asthesongfinisheswebothapplaud.Samthesingerbowsgraciouslyand
introduceshisband.
“MayIcutin?”
Irecognizethemanwhobidonmeattheauction.Christiangrudginglylets
mego,buthe’samused,too.
“Bemyguest.Anastasia,thisisJohnFlynn.John,Anastasia.”
Shit!
Christiansmirksatmeandwandersofftoonesideofthedancefloor.
“Howdoyoudo,Anastasia?”Dr.Flynnsayssmoothly,andIrealizehe’s
British.
“Hello,”Istutter.
Thebandstrikesupanothersong,andDr.Flynnpullsmeintohisarms.He’s
muchyoungerthanIimagined,thoughIcan’tseehisface.He’swearinga
masksimilartoChristian’s.He’stall,butnotastallasChristian,andhe
doesn’tmovewithChristian’seasygrace.
WhatdoIsaytohim?WhyisChristiansofucked-up?Whydidhebidon
me?It’stheonlythingIwanttoaskhim,butsomehowthatseemsrude.
“I’mgladtofinallymeetyou,Anastasia.Areyouenjoyingyourself?”he
asks.
“Iwas,”Iwhisper.
“Oh.IhopeI’mnotresponsibleforyourchangeofheart.”Hegivesmea
brief,warmsmilethatputsmealittlemoreatease.
“DoctorFlynn,you’retheshrink.Youtellme.”
Hegrins.“That’stheproblem,isn’tit?Theshrinkbit?”
Igiggle.“I’mworriedwhatImightreveal,soI’malittleself-consciousand
intimidated.AndreallyIonlywanttoaskyouaboutChristian.”
Hesmiles.“First,thisisapartysoI’mnotonduty,”hewhispers
conspiratorially.“Andsecond,Ireallycan’ttalktoyouaboutChristian.
Besides,”heteases,“we’dneeduntilChristmas.”
Igaspinshock.
“That’sadoctor’sjoke,Anastasia.”
Iflush,embarrassed,andthenfeelslightlyresentful.He’smakingajokeat
Christian’sexpense.“You’vejustconfirmedwhatI’vebeensayingto
Christian…thatyou’reanexpensivecharlatan,”Iadmonishhim.
Dr.Flynnsnortswithlaughter.“Youcouldbeontosomethingthere.”
“You’reBritish?”
“Yes.OriginallyfromLondon.”
“Howdidyoufindyourselfhere?”
“Happycircumstance.”
“Youdon’tgivemuchaway,doyou?”
“There’snotmuchtogiveaway.I’mreallyaverydullperson.”
“That’sveryself-deprecating.”
“It’saBritishtrait.Partofournationalcharacter.”
“Oh.”
“AndIcouldaccuseyouofthesame,Anastasia.”
“ThatI’madullperson,too,Dr.Flynn?”
Hesnorts.“No,Anastasia,thatyoudon’tgivemuchaway.”
“There’snotmuchtogiveaway.”Ismile.
“Isincerelydoubtthat.”Heunexpectedlyfrowns.
Iflush,butthemusicfinishesandChristianisoncemorebymyside.Dr.
Flynnreleasesme.“It’sbeenapleasuretomeetyou,Anastasia.”Hegivesme
hiswarmsmileagain,andIfeelthatI’vepassedsomekindofhiddentest.
“John.”Christiannodsathim.
“Christian.”Dr.Flynnreturnshisnod,turnsonhisheel,anddisappears
throughthecrowd.
Christianpullsmeintohisarmsforthenextdance.
“He’smuchyoungerthanIexpected,”Imurmurtohim.“Andterribly
indiscreet.”
Christiancockshisheadtooneside.“Indiscreet?”
“Ohyes,hetoldmeeverything,”Itease.
Christiantenses.“Well,inthatcase,I’llgetyourbag.I’msureyouwant
nothingmoretodowithme,”hesayssoftly.
Istop.“Hedidn’ttellmeanything!”Myvoicefillswithpanic.
Christianblinksbeforerelieffloodshisface.Hepullsmeintohisarmsagain.
“Thenlet’senjoythisdance.”Hebeamsdown,reassuringme,thenspinsme
round.
WhywouldhethinkthatI’dwanttoleave?Itmakesnosense.
Wedancefortwomorenumbers,andIrealizeIneedtherestroom.
“Iwon’tbelong.”
AsImakemywaytothepowderroom,IrememberIhaveleftmypurseon
thedinnertable,soIheaddowntothemarquee.WhenIenter,it’sstilllitbut
quitedeserted,exceptforacoupleattheotherend,whoreallyoughttogeta
room!Ireachformybag.
“Anastasia?”
Asoftvoicestartlesme,andIturntoseeawomandressedinalong,tight,
blackvelvetgown.Hermaskisunique.Itcoversherfacetohernosebutalso
coversherhair.It’sstunningwithelaborategoldfiligree.
“I’msogladyou’reonyourown,”shesayssoftly.“I’vebeenwantingtotalk
toyouallevening.”
“I’msorry,Idon’tknowwhoyouare.”
Shepullsthemaskfromherfaceandreleasesherhair.
Shit!It’sMrs.Robinson.
“I’msorry,Istartledyou.”
Igapeather.Holycow—whatthefuckdoesthiswomanwant?
Idon’tknowwhatthesocialconventionsareformeetingknownmolestersof
children.
She’ssmilingsweetlyandgesturingformetositatthetable.AndbecauseI
amlackinganysphereofreference,Idoassheasksoutofstunnedpoliteness,
gratefulthatIamstillwearingmymask.
“I’llbebrief,Anastasia.Iknowwhatyouthinkofme…Christian’stoldme.”
Igazeatherimpassively,givingnothingaway,butI’mpleasedthatshe
knows.Itsavesmetellingher,andshe’scuttingtothechase.Partofmeis
beyondintriguedastowhatshecouldhavetosay.
Shepauses,glancingovermyshoulder.“Taylor’swatchingus.”
Ipeekaroundtoseehimscanningthetentbythedoorway.Sawyeriswith
him.Theyarelookinganywherebutatus.
“Look,wedon’thavelong,”shesayshurriedly.“Itmustbeobvioustoyou
thatChristianisinlovewithyou.Ihaveneverseenhimlikethis,ever.”She
emphasizesthelastword.
What?Lovesme?No.Whyisshetellingme?Toreassureme?Idon’t
understand.
“Hewon’ttellyoubecauseheprobablydoesn’trealizeithimself,
notwithstandingwhatI’vesaidtohim,butthat’sChristian.He’snotvery
attunedtoanypositivefeelingsandemotionshemayhave.Hedwellsfartoo
muchonthenegative.Butthenyou’veprobablyworkedthatoutforyourself.
Hedoesn’tthinkhe’sworthy.”
Iamreeling.Christianlovesme?Hehasn’tsaidit,andthiswomanhastold
himthat’showhefeels?Howbizarre.
Ahundredimagesdancethroughmyhead:theiPad,thegliding,flyingtosee
me,allhisactions,hispossessiveness,onehundredthousanddollarsfora
dance.Isthislove?
Andhearingitfromthiswoman,havingherconfirmitformeis,frankly,
unwelcome.
I’dratherhearitfromhim.
Myheartconstricts.Hefeelsunworthy?Why?
“I’veneverseenhimsohappy,andit’sobviousthatyouhavefeelingsfor
him,too.”Abriefsmileflitsacrossherlips.“That’sgreat,andIwishyou
boththebestofeverything.
ButwhatIwantedtosayisifyouhurthimagain,Iwillfindyou,lady,andit
won’tbepleasantwhenIdo.”
Shestaresatme,ice-coldblueeyesboringintomyskull,tryingtogetunder
mymask.
Herthreatissoastonishing,sooffthewallthataninvoluntary,disbelieving
giggleescapesme.Ofallthethingsshecouldsaytome,thisistheleast
expected.
“Youthinkthisisfunny,Anastasia?”shespluttersindismay.“Youdidn’tsee
himlastSaturday.”
Myfacefallsanddarkens.ThethoughtofChristianunhappyisnota
palatableone,andlastSaturdayIlefthim.Hemusthavegonetoher.Theidea
makesmequeasy.WhyamIsittingherelisteningtothisshitfromherofall
people?Islowlyrise,gazingatherintently.
“I’mlaughingatyouraudacity,Mrs.Lincoln.ChristianandIhavenothingto
dowithyou.AndifIdoleavehimandyoucomelookingforme,I’llbe
waiting—don’tdoubtit.
AndmaybeI’llgiveyouatasteofyourownmedicineonbehalfofthe
fifteen-year-oldchildyoumolestedandprobablyfucked-upevenmorethan
healreadywas.”
Hermouthfallsopen.
“Nowifyou’llexcuseme,Ihavebetterthingstodothanwastemytimewith
you.”
Iturnonmyheel,adrenalineandangercoursingthroughmybody,andstalk
towardtheentranceofthetentwhereTaylorisstandingjustasChristian
arrives,lookingflusteredandworried.
“Thereyouare,”hemutters,thenfrownswhenheseesElena.
Istridepasthim,sayingnothing,givinghimtheopportunitytochoose—her
orme.Hemakestherightchoice.
“Ana,”hecalls.Istopandfacehimashecatchesupwithme.“What’s
wrong?”Hegazesdownatme,concernetchedonhisface.
“Whydon’tyouaskyourex?”Ihissacidly.
Hismouthtwistsandhiseyesfrost.“I’maskingyou,”hesays,hisvoicesoft
butwithanundertoneofsomethingfarmoremenacing.
Weglareateachother.
Okay,IcanseethiswillendinafightifIdon’ttellhim.“She’sthreateningto
comeaftermeifIhurtyouagain—probablywithawhip,”Isnapathim.
Reliefflashesacrosshisface,hismouthsofteningwithhumour.“Surelythe
ironyofthatisn’tlostonyou?”hesays,andIcantellhe’stryinghardtostifle
hisamusement.
“Thisisn’tfunny,Christian!”
“No,you’reright.I’lltalktoher.”Headoptshisseriousface,thoughhe’sstill
suppressinghisamusement.
“Youwilldonosuchthing.”Ifoldmyarms,myangerspikingagain.
Heblinksatme,surprisedbymyoutburst.
“Look,Iknowyou’retiedupwithherfinancially,forgivethepun,but—”I
stop.WhatamIaskinghimtodo?Giveherup?Stopseeingher?CanIdo
that?“Ineedtherestroom.”
Iglareupathim,mymouthsetinagrimline.
Hesighsandcockshisheadtooneside.Couldhelookanyhotter?Isitthe
maskorjusthim?
“Pleasedon’tbemad.Ididn’tknowshewashere.Shesaidshewasn’t
coming.”Histoneisplacatingasifhe’stalkingtoachild.Reachinguphe
runshisthumbalongmypoutingbottomlip.“Don’tletElenaruinour
evening,please,Anastasia.She’sreallyoldnews.”
Oldbeingtheoperativeword,Ithinkuncharitably,ashetipsmychinupand
gentlygrazeshislipsagainstmine.Isighinagreement,blinkingupathim.
Hestraightensandtakesmyelbow.
“I’llaccompanyyoutothepowderroomsoyoudon’tgetinterruptedagain.”
Heleadsmeacrossthelawntowardtheluxurioustemporaryrestrooms.Mia
saidtheyhadbeendeliveredfortheoccasion,butIhadnoideatheycamein
deluxeversions.
“I’llwaithereforyou,baby,”hemurmurs.
WhenIcomeout,mymoodhasmoderated.IhavedecidednottoletMrs.
Robinsonblightmyeveningbecausethat’sprobablywhatshewants.
Christianisonthephonesomedistanceawayandoutofearshotofthefew
peoplelaughingandchattingnearby.AsIgetcloser,Icanhearhim.He’svery
terse.
“Whydidyouchangeyourmind?Ithoughtwe’dagreed.Well,leaveher
alone…ThisisthefirstregularrelationshipI’veeverhad,andIdon’twant
youjeopardizingitthroughsomemisplacedconcernforme.Leave.Her.
Alone.Imeanit,Elena.”Hepauses,listening.
“No,ofcoursenot.”Hefrownsdeeplyashesaysthis.Glancingup,hesees
meregardinghim.“Ihavetogo.Goodnight.”Hepressestheoffbutton.
Icockmyheadtoonesideandraiseaneyebrowathim.Whyishephoning
her?
“How’stheoldnews?”
“Cranky,”herepliessardonically.“Doyouwanttodancesomemore?Or
wouldyouliketogo?”Heglancesathiswatch.“Thefireworksstartinfive
minutes.”
“Ilovefireworks.”
“We’llstayandwatchthem,then.”Heputshisarmsaroundmeandpullsme
close.
“Don’tlethercomebetweenus,please.”
“Shecaresaboutyou,”Imutter.
“Yes,andIher…asafriend.”
“Ithinkit’smorethanafriendshiptoher.”
Hisbrowfurrows.“Anastasia,ElenaandI…it’scomplicated.Wehavea
sharedhistory.Butitisjustthat,history.AsI’vesaidtoyoutimeandtime
again,she’sagoodfriend.
That’sall.Please,forgetabouther.”Hekissesmyhair,andintheinterestof
notruiningourevening,Iletitgo.Iamjusttryingtounderstand.
Wewanderhandinhandbacktothedancefloor.Thebandisstillinfull
swing.
“Anastasia.”
IturntofindCarrickstandingbehindus.
“Iwonderedifyou’ddomethehonourofthenextdance.”Carrickholdshis
handouttome.Christianshrugsandsmiles,releasingmyhand,andIlet
Carrickleadmeontothedancefloor.Samthebandleaderlaunchesinto
“ComeFlywithMe,”andCarrickputshisarmaroundmywaistandgently
whirlsmeintothethrong.
“Iwantedtothankyouforthegenerouscontributiontoourcharity,
Anastasia.”
Fromhistone,IsuspectthisishisroundaboutwayofaskingwhetherIcan
affordit.
“Mr.Grey—”
“CallmeCarrick,please,Ana.”
“I’mdelightedtobeabletocontribute.Iunexpectedlycameintosome
money.Idon’tneedit.Andit’ssuchaworthycause.”
Hesmilesdownatme,andIseizetheopportunityforsomeinnocent
inquiries.Carpediem,mysubconscioushissesfrombehindherhand.
“Christiantoldmealittleabouthispast,soIthinkit’sappropriatetosupport
yourwork,”Iadd,hopingthatthismightencourageCarricktogivemea
smallinsightintothemysterythatishisson.
Carrickissurprised.“Didhe?That’sunusual.Youcertainlyhavehadavery
positiveeffectonhim,Anastasia.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenhimso,so…
buoyant.”
Iflush.
“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoembarrassyou.”
“Well,inmylimitedexperience,he’saveryunusualman,”Imurmur.
“Heis,”Carrickagreesquietly.
“Christian’searlychildhoodsoundshideouslytraumatic,fromwhathe’stold
me.”
Carrickfrowns,andIworryifI’veoversteppedthemark.
“Mywifewasthedoctorondutywhenthepolicebroughthimin.Hewas
skinandbones,andbadlydehydrated.Hewouldn’tspeak.”Carrickfrowns
again,lostintheawfulmemory,despitetheup-tempomusicsurroundingus.
“Infact,hedidn’tspeakfornearlytwoyears.Itwasplayingthepianothat
eventuallybroughthimoutofhimself.Oh,andMia’sarrival,ofcourse.”He
smilesdownatmefondly.
“Heplaysbeautifully.Andhe’saccomplishedsomuch,youmustbevery
proudofhim.”Isounddistracted.HolyShit.Didn’tspeakfortwoyears.
“Immenselyso.He’saverydetermined,verycapable,verybrightyoungman.
Butbetweenyouandme,Anastasia,it’sseeinghimlikeheisthisevening—
carefree,actinghisage—that’stherealthrillforhismotherandme.Wewere
bothcommentingonittoday.Ibelievewehaveyoutothankforthat.”
IthinkIblushtomyroots.WhatamIsupposedtosaytothis?
“He’salwaysbeensuchaloner.Weneverthoughtwe’dseehimwithanyone.
Whateveryou’redoing,pleasedon’tstop.We’dliketoseehimhappy.”He
stopssuddenlyasifhe’soversteppedthemark.“I’msorry,Idon’tmeanto
makeyouuncomfortable.”
Ishakemyhead.“I’dliketoseehimhappy,too,”Imutter,unsureofwhat
elsetosay.
“Well,I’mverygladyoucamethisevening.It’sbeenarealpleasureseeing
thetwoofyoutogether.”
Asthefinalstrainsof“ComeFlywithMe”fadeaway,Carrickreleasesme
andbows,andIcurtsey,mirroringhiscivility.
“That’senoughdancingwitholdmen.”Christianisatmysideagain.Carrick
laughs.
“Lessofthe‘old,’son.I’vebeenknowntohavemymoments.”Carrickwinks
atmeplayfullyandsauntersintothecrowd.
“Ithinkmydadlikesyou,”Christianmuttersashewatcheshisfathermingle
withthecrowd..
“What’snottolike?”Ipeekcoquettishlyupathimthroughmylashes.
“Goodpointwellmade,MissSteele.”Hepullsmeintoanembraceasthe
bandstartstoplay“ItHadtoBeYou.”
“Dancewithme,”hewhispersseductively.
“Withpleasure,Mr.Grey.”Ismileinresponse,andhesweepsmeacrossthe
danceflooroncemore.
Atmidnight,westrolldowntowardtheshorebetweenthemarqueeandthe
boathousewheretheotherpartygoersaregatheredtowatchthefireworks.
TheMC,backincharge,haspermittedtheremovalofmasks,thebettertosee
thedisplay.Christianhashisarmaroundme,butI’mawarethatTaylorand
Sawyerarecloseby,probablybecausewe’reinthecrowdnow.Theyare
lookinganywherebutatthedocksidewheretwopyrotechniciansdressedin
blackaremakingtheirfinalpreparations.SeeingTaylorremindsmeofLeila.
Perhapsshe’shere.Shit.Thethoughtchillsmyblood,andIhuddlecloserto
Christian.Hegazesdownatmeashepullsmecloser.
“Youokay,baby?Cold?”
“I’mfine.”Iglancequicklybehindusandseetheothertwosecurityguys,
whosenamesIforget,standingcloseby.Movingmeinfrontofhim,Christian
putsbothhisarmsaroundmeovermyshoulders.
Suddenly,astirringclassicalsoundtrackboomsoverthedockandtworockets
soarintotheair,explodingwithadeafeningbangoverthebay,lightingitall
inadazzlingcanopyofsparklingorangeandwhitethat’sreflectedina
glitteringshoweroverthestillcalmwaterofthebay.Myjawdropsasseveral
morerocketsfireintotheairandexplodeinakaleidoscopeofcolour.
Ican’trecalleverseeingadisplaythisimpressive,exceptperhapson
television,anditneverlooksthisgoodonTV.They’reallintimetothe
music.Volleyaftervolley,bangafterbang,andlightafterlightasthecrowd
answerswithgaspsandooohsandahhs.Itisoutofthisworld.
Onthepontooninthebayseveralsilverfountainsoflightshootuptwenty
feetintheair,changingcolourthroughblue,red,orange,andbacktosilver—
andyetmorerocketsexplodeasthemusicreachesitscrescendo.
Myfaceisbeginningtoachefromtheridiculousgrinofwonderplastered
acrossit.IglanceatFifty,andhe’sthesame,marvellinglikeachildatthe
sensationalshow.Forthefinaleavolleyofsixrocketsshootintothedarkand
explodesimultaneously,bathingusinagloriousgoldenlightasthecrowd
eruptsintofrantic,enthusiasticapplause.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,”theMCcallsoutasthecheersandwhistlesfade.
“Justonenotetoaddattheendofthiswonderfulevening;yourgenerosity
hasraisedatotalofonemillion,eighthundredandfiftythreethousand
dollars!”
Spontaneousapplauseeruptsagain,andoutonthepontoon,amessagelights
upinsilverstreamsofsparksformingthewordsThankYouFromCoping
Together,sparklingandshimmeringoverthewater.
“Oh,Christian…thatwaswonderful.”Igrinupathimandhebendsdownto
kissme.
“Timetogo,”hemurmurs,abroadsmileonhisbeautifulface,andhiswords
holdsomuchpromise.
Suddenly,Ifeelverytired.
Heglancesupagain,andTaylorisclose,thecrowddispersingaroundus.
Theydon’tspeakbutsomethingpassesbetweenthem.
“Staywithmeamoment.Taylorwantsustowaitwhilethecrowddisperses.”
Oh.
“Ithinkthatfireworkdisplayprobablyagedhimahundredyears,”headds.
“Doesn’thelikefireworks?”
Christiangazesdownatmefondlyandshakeshisheadbutdoesn’telaborate.
“So,Aspen,”hesays,andIknowhe’stryingtodistractmefromsomething.It
works.
“Oh…Ihaven’tpaidformybid,”Igasp.
“Youcansendacheck.Ihavetheaddress.”
“Youwerereallymad.”
“Yes,Iwas.”
Igrin.“Iblameyouandyourtoys.”
“Youwerequiteovercome,MissSteele.AmostsatisfactoryoutcomeifI
recall.”Hesmilessalaciously.“Incidentally,wherearethey?”
“Thesilverballs?Inmybag.”
“I’dlikethemback.”Hesmirksdownatme.“Theyarefartoopotentadevice
tobeleftinyourinnocenthands.”
“WorriedImightbequiteovercomeagain,maybewithsomebodyelse?”
Hiseyesglitterdangerously.“Ihopethat’snotgoingtohappen,”hesays,a
cooledgetohisvoice.“Butno,Ana.Iwantallyourpleasure.”
Whoa.“Don’tyoutrustme?”
“Implicitly.Now,canIhavethemback?”
“I’llthinkaboutit.”
Henarrowshiseyesatme.
There’smusiconcemorefromthedancefloorbutit’saDJplayinga
thumpingdancenumber,thebasspoundingoutarelentlessbeat.
“Doyouwanttodance?”
“I’mreallytired,Christian.I’dliketogo,ifthat’sokay.”
ChristianglancesatTaylor,whonods,andwesetofftowardthehouse,
followingacoupleofdrunkenguests.I’mgratefulwhenChristiantakesmy
hand—myfeetareachingfromthedizzyingheightandtightconfinementof
myshoes.
Miacomesboundinguptous.“You’renotgoing,areyou?Therealmusic’s
justbeginning.Comeon,Ana.”Shegrabsmyhand.
“Mia,”Christianadmonishesher.“Anastasia’stired.We’regoinghome.
Besides,wehaveabigdaytomorrow.”
Wedo?
Miapoutsbutsurprisinglydoesn’tpushChristian.
“Youmustcomebysometimenextweek.Maybewecanhitthemall?”
“Sure,Mia.”Igrin,thoughinthebackofmymindI’mwonderinghowsince
Ihavetoworkforaliving.
ShegivesmeaquickkissthenhugsChristianfiercely,takingusbothby
surprise.Moreastoundinglystill,sheplacesherhandsdirectlyonthelapels
ofhisjacket,andhejustgazesdownather,indulgently.
“Ilikeseeingyouthishappy,”shesayssweetlyandkisseshimonthecheek.
“Bye.Youguyshavefun.”Sheskipsofftowardherwaitingfriends—among
themLily,wholooksevenmoresour-facedwithouthermask.
IwonderidlywhereSeanis.
“We’llsaygoodnighttomyparentsbeforeweleave.Come.”Christianleads
methroughagaggleofgueststoGraceandCarrick,whowishusfondand
warmfarewells.
“Pleasedocomeagain,Anastasia,it’sbeenlovelyhavingyouhere,”says
Gracekindly.
IamalittleoverwhelmedbybothherandCarrick’sreaction.Fortunately,
Grace’sparentshaveretiredfortheevening,soatleastIamsparedtheir
enthusiasm.
Quietly,ChristianandIwalkhandinhandtothefrontofthehousewhere
countlesscarsarelinedupandwaitingtocollectguests.IglanceupatFifty.
Helookshappyandrelaxed.It’sarealpleasuretoseehimthisway,thoughI
suspectit’sunusualaftersuchanextraordinaryday.
“Areyouwarmenough?”heasks.
“Yes,thankyou.”Iclaspmysatinwrap.
“Ireallyenjoyedthisevening,Anastasia.Thankyou.”
“Metoo,somepartsmorethanothers.”Igrin.
Hegrinsandnods,thenhisbrowcreases.“Don’tbiteyourlip,”hewarnsina
waythatmakesmybloodsing.
“Whatdidyoumeanaboutabigdaytomorrow?”Iasktodistractmyself.
“Dr.Greeneiscomingtosortyouout.Plus,Ihaveasurpriseforyou.”
“Dr.Greene!”Ihalt.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIhatecondoms,”hesaysquietly.Hiseyesglintinthesoftlight
fromthepaperlanterns,gaugingmyreaction.
“It’smybody,”Imutter,annoyedthathehasn’taskedme.
“It’smine,too,”hewhispers.
Igazeupathimasvariousguestspassby,ignoringus.Helookssoearnest.
Yes,mybodyishis…heknowsitbetterthanIdo.
Ireachup,andheflincheseversoslightlybutstaysstill.Graspingthecorner
ofhisbowtie,Ipullsoitunravels,revealingthetopbuttonofhisshirt.
GentlyIundoit.
“Youlookhotlikethis,”Iwhisper.Actuallyhelookshotallthetime,but
reallyhotlikethis.
Hesmirksatme.“Ineedtogetyouhome.Come.”
Atthecar,SawyerhandsChristiananenvelope.Hefrownsatitandglancesat
measTaylorushersmeintothecar.Taylorlooksrelievedforsomereason.
Christianclimbsinandhandsmetheenvelope,unopened,asTaylorand
Sawyertaketheirseatsinthefront.
“It’saddressedtoyou.OneofthestaffgaveittoSawyer.Nodoubtfromyet
anotherensnaredheart.”Christian’smouthtwists.It’sobviousthisisan
unpleasantconcepttohim.
Istareatthenote.Whoisthisfrom?Rippingitopen,Ireaditquicklyinthe
dimlight.
Holyshit,it’sfromher!Whywon’tsheleavemealone?
Fuck,she’ssigneditMrs.Robinson!Hetoldher.Thebastard.
“Youtoldher?”
“Toldwho,what?”
“ThatIcallherMrs.Robinson,”Isnap.
“It’sfromElena?”Christianisshocked.“Thisisridiculous,”hegrumbles,
runningahandthroughhishair,andIcantellhe’sirritated.“I’lldealwithher
tomorrow.OrMonday,”hemuttersbitterly.
AndthoughI’mashamedtoadmitit,averysmallpartofmeispleased.My
subconsciousnodssagely.Elenaispissinghimoff,andthiscanonlybegood
—surely.Idecidetosaynothingfornowbutstashhernoteinmybag,andin
agestureguaranteedtolightenhismood,Ihandhimbacktheballs.
“Untilnexttime,”Imurmur.
Heglancesatme,andit’shardtoseehisfaceinthedark,butIthinkhe’s
smirking.Hereachesformyhandandsqueezesit.
Igazeoutofthewindowintothedarkness,reflectingonthislongday.I’ve
learnedsomuchabouthim,gleanedsomanymissingdetails—thesalons,the
roadmap,hischildhood—butthere’sstillsomuchmoretodiscover.And
whataboutMrs.R?Yes,shecaresforhim,anddeeply,itwouldappear.Ican
seethat,andhecaresforher—butnotinthesameway.Idon’tknowwhatto
thinkanymore.Allthisinformationismakingmyheadhurt.
ChristianwakesmejustaswepullupoutsideEscala.“DoIneedtocarryyou
in?”heasksgently.
Ishakemyheadsleepily.Noway.
Aswestandintheelevator,Ileanagainsthim,puttingmyheadagainsthis
shoulder.
Sawyerstandsinfrontofus,shiftinguncomfortably.
“It’sbeenalongday,eh,Anastasia?”
Inod.
“Tired?”
Inod.
“You’renotverytalkative.”
Inodandhegrins.
“Come.I’llputyoutobed.”Hetakesmyhandasweexittheelevator,butwe
stopinthefoyerwhenSawyerholdsuphishand.Inthatsplitsecond,Iam
instantlywideawake.
Sawyertalksintohissleeve.Ihadnoideathathewaswearingaradio.
“Willdo,T,”hesaysandturnstofaceus.“Mr.Grey,thetiresonMs.Steele’s
Audihavebeenslashedandpaintthrownalloverit.”
Holyshit.Mycar!Whowoulddothat?AndIknowtheanswerassoonasthe
questionmaterializesinmymind.Leila.IglanceupatChristian,andhe
blanches.
“Taylorisconcernedthattheperpmayhaveenteredtheapartmentandmay
stillbethere.Hewantstomakesure.”
“Isee,”Christianwhispers.“What’sTaylor’splan?”
“He’scomingupintheserviceelevatorwithRyanandReynolds.They’lldoa
sweepthengiveustheallclear.I’mtowaitwithyou,sir.”
“Thankyou,Sawyer.”Christiantightenshisarmaroundme.“Thisdayjust
getsbetterandbetter,”hesighsbitterly,nuzzlingmyhair.“Listen,Ican’t
standhereandwait.Sawyer,takecareofMissSteele.Don’tletherinuntil
youhavetheallclear.IamsureTaylorisoverreacting.Shecan’tgetintothe
apartment.”
What?“No,Christian—youhavetostaywithme,”Iplead.
Christianreleasesme.“Doasyou’retold,Anastasia.Waithere.”
No!
“Sawyer?”Christiansays.
SawyeropensthefoyerdoortoletChristianentertheapartmentthenshuts
thedoorbehindhimandstandsinfrontofit,staringimpassivelydownatme.
Holyshit.Christian!Allmannerofhorrificoutcomesrunthroughmymind,
butallIcandoisstandandwait.
Sawyertalksintohissleeveagain.
“Taylor,Mr.Greyhasenteredtheapartment.”Heflinchesandgrabsthe
earpiece,pullingitoutofhisear,presumablyreceivingsomepowerful
invectivefromTaylor.
Ohno—ifTaylorisworried…
“Pleaseletmegoin,”Iplead.
“Sorry,MissSteele.Thiswon’ttakelong.”Sawyerholdsbothhandsupina
defensivegesture.“Taylorandtheguysarejustcomingintotheapartment
now.”
Oh.Ifeelsoimpotent.Standingstock-still,Ilistenavidlyfortheslightest
sound,butallIhearismyaggravatedbreathing.It’sloudandshallow,my
scalpprickles,mymouthisdry,andIfeelfaint.Please,letChristianbeokay,
Ipraysilently.
Ihavenoideahowmuchtimepasses,andstillwehearnothing.Surelyno
soundisgood—therearenogunshots.Ibeginpacingaroundthetableinthe
foyerandexaminethepaintingsonthewallstodistractmyself.
I’veneverreallylookedatthembefore:allfigurativepaintings,allreligious
—theMadonnaandchild,allsixteenofthem.Howodd?
Christianisn’treligious,ishe?Allofthepaintingsinthegreatroomare
abstracts—
thesearesodifferent.Theydon’tdistractmeforlong—WhereisChristian?
IstareatSawyerandhewatchesmeimpassively.
“What’shappening?”
“Nonews,MissSteele.”
Abruptly,thedoorknobmoves.Sawyerspinslikeatopanddrawsagunfrom
hisshoulderholster.
Ifreeze.Christianappearsatthedoor.
“Allclear,”hesays,frowningatSawyer,whoputshisgunawayimmediately
andstepsbacktoletmein.
“Taylorisoverreacting,”Christiangrumblesasheholdsouthishandtome.I
standgapingathim,unabletomove,drinkingineverylittledetail:hisunruly
hair,thetightnessroundhiseyes,thetensejaw,thetoptwobuttonsofhis
shirtundone.IthinkImusthaveagedtenyears.Christianfrownsatmein
concern,hiseyesdark.
“It’salright,baby.”Hemovestowardme,envelopingmeinhisarms,and
kissesmyhair.“Comeon,you’retired.Bed.”
“Iwassoworried,”Imurmur,rejoicinginhisembraceandinhalinghissweet,
sweetscentwithmyheadagainsthischest.
“Iknow.We’realljumpy.”
Sawyerhasdisappeared,presumablyintotheapartment.
“Honestly,yourexesareprovingtobeverychallenging,Mr.Grey,”Imutter
wryly.
Christianrelaxes.
“Yes.Theyare.”
Hereleasesmeandtakingmyhand,leadsmeacrossthehallwayandintothe
greatroom.
“Taylorandhiscrewarecheckingalltheclosetsandcupboards.Idon’tthink
she’shere.”
“Whywouldshebehere?”Itmakesnosense.
“Exactly.”
“Couldshegetin?”
“Idon’tseehow.ButTaylorisovercautioussometimes.”
“Haveyousearchedyourplayroom?”Iwhisper.
Christianglancesquicklyatme,hisbrowcreasing.“Yes,it’slocked—but
TaylorandIchecked.”
Itakeadeep,cleansingbreath.
“Doyouwantadrinkoranything?”Christianasks.
“No.”Fatiguesweepsthroughme—Ijustwanttogotobed.
“Come.Letmeputyoutobed.Youlookexhausted.”Christian’sexpression
softens.
Ifrown.Isn’thecoming,too?Doeshewanttosleepalone?
I’mrelievedwhenheleadsmeintohisbedroom.Iplacemyclutchbagonthe
chestofdrawersandopenittoemptythecontents.IspyMrs.Robinson’s
note.
“Here.”IpassittoChristian.“Idon’tknowifyouwanttoreadthis.Iwantto
ignoreit.”Christianscansitbrieflyandhisjawtenses.
“I’mnotsurewhatblanksshecanfillin,”hesaysdismissively.“Ineedtotalk
toTaylor.”Hegazesdownatme.“Letmeunzipyourdress.”
“Areyougoingtocallthepoliceaboutthecar?”IaskasIturnaround.
Hesweepsmyhairoutoftheway,hisfingerssoftlygrazingmynakedback,
andtugsdownmyzipper.
“No.Idon’twantthepoliceinvolved.Leilaneedshelp,notpolice
intervention,andIdon’twantthemhere.Wejusthavetodoubleoureffortsto
findher.”Heleansdownandplantsagentlekissonmyshoulder.
“Gotobed,”heordersandthenhe’sgone.
Ilie,staringattheceiling,waitingforhimtoreturn.Somuchhashappened
today,somuchtoprocess.Wheretostart?
Iwakewithajolt—disorientated.HaveIbeenasleep?Blinkinginthedim
glowthehallwaycaststhroughtheslightlyopenbedroomdoor,Inoticethat
Christianisnotwithme.Whereishe?Iglanceup.Standingattheendofthe
bedisashadow.Awoman,maybe?
Dressedinblack?It’sdifficulttotell.
Inmybefuddledstate,Ireachacrossandswitchonthebedsidelight,then
turnbacktolookbutthere’snoonethere.Ishakemyhead.DidIimagineit?
Dreamit?
Isitupandlookaroundtheroom,avague,insidiousuneasegrippingme—
butIamquitealone.
Irubmyface.Whattimeisit?Where’sChristian?Thealarmsaysit’stwo
fifteeninthemorning.
Climbinggroggilyoutofbed,Isetofftohunthimdown,disconcertedbymy
overactiveimagination.Iamseeingthingsnow.Itmustbeareactiontothe
dramaticeventsoftheevening.
Themainroomisempty,theonlylightemanatingfromthethreependulum
lampsabovethebreakfastbar.Buthisstudydoorisajar,andIhearhimon
thephone.
“Idon’tknowwhyyou’recallingatthishour.Ihavenothingtosaytoyou…
well,youcantellmenow.Youdon’thavetoleaveamessage.”
Istandmotionlessbythedoor,eavesdroppingguiltily.Whoishetalkingto?
“No,youlisten.Iaskedyou,andnowIamtellingyou.Leaveheralone.She’s
nothingtodowithyou.Doyouunderstand?”
Hesoundsbelligerentandangry.Ihesitatetoknock.
“Iknowyoudo.ButImeanit,Elena.Leaveherthefuckalone.DoIneedto
putitintriplicateforyou?Areyouhearingme?…Good.Goodnight.”He
slamsthephonedownonthedesk.
Ohshit.Iknocktentativelyonthedoor.
“What?”hesnarls,andIalmostwanttorunandhide.
Hesitsathisdeskwithhisheadinhishands.Heglancesup,hisexpression
ferocious,buthisfacesoftensimmediatelywhenheseesme.Hiseyesare
wideandcautious.Suddenly,helookssotiredandmyheartconstricts.
Heblinks,andhiseyessweepdownmylegsandbackagain.Iamwearing
oneofhisT-shirts.
“Youshouldbeinsatinorsilk,Anastasia,”hebreathes.“ButeveninmyT-
shirtyoulookbeautiful.”
Oh,anunexpectedcompliment.“Imissedyou.Cometobed.”
Herisesslowlyoutofthechairstillinhiswhiteshirtandblackdresspants.
Butnowhiseyesareshiningandfullofpromise…butthere’satraceof
sadness,too.Hestandsinfrontofme,staringintentlybutnottouchingme.
“Doyouknowwhatyoumeantome?”hemurmurs.“Ifsomethinghappened
toyou,becauseofme…”Hisvoicetrailsoff,hisbrowcreasing,andthepain
thatflashesacrosshisfaceisalmostpalpable.Helookssovulnerable—his
fearverymuchapparent.
“Nothing’sgoingtohappentome,”Ireassurehim,myvoicesoothing.Ireach
upandstrokehisface,runningmyfingersthroughthestubbleonhischeek.
It’sunexpectedlysoft.“Yourbeardgrowsquickly,”Iwhisper,unabletohide
thewonderinmyvoiceatthisbeautiful,fucked-upmanwhostandsbefore
me.
Itracethelineofhisbottomlipthentrailmyfingersdownhisthroat,tothe
faintsmudgeoflipstickatthebaseofhisneck.Hegazesdownatme,stillnot
touchingme,hislipsparted.Irunmyindexfingeralongtheline,andhe
closeshiseyes.Hissoftbreathingquickens.Myfingersreachtheedgeofhis
shirt,andIrunthemdowntothenextfastenedbutton.
“I’mnotgoingtotouchyou.Ijustwanttoundoyourshirt,”Iwhisper.
Hiseyesopenwide,regardingmewithalarm.Buthedoesn’tmove,andhe
doesn’tstopme.VeryslowlyIunfastenthebutton,holdingthematerialaway
fromhisskin,andmovetentativelydowntothenextbutton,repeatingthe
process—slowly,concentratingonwhatIamdoing.
Idon’twanttotouchhim.Well,Ido…butIwon’t.Onthefourthbutton,the
redlinereappears,andIsmileshylyupathim.
“Backonhometerritory.”Itracethelinewithmyfingersbeforeundoingthe
finalbutton.Ipullhisshirtopenandmovetohiscuffs,removinghisblack
polishedstonecufflinksoneatatime.
“CanItakeyourshirtoff?”Iask,myvoicelow.
Henods,eyesstillwide,asIreachupandpullhisshirtoverhisshoulders.He
freeshishandssohe’sstandinginfrontofmenakedfromthewaistup.With
hisshirtoff,heseemstorecoverhisequilibrium.Hesmirksdownatme.
“Whataboutmypants,MissSteele?”heasks,raisinganeyebrow.
“Inthebedroom.Iwantyouinyourbed.”
“Doyounow?MissSteele,youareinsatiable.”
“Ican’tthinkwhy.”Igrabhishand,pullhimfromhisstudy,andleadhimto
hisbedroom.Theroomischilly.
“Youopenedthebalconydoor?”heasks,frowningdownatmeaswearrive
inhisroom.
“No.”Idon’trememberdoingthat.IrecallscanningtheroomwhenIwoke.
Thedoorwasdefinitelyclosed.
Ohshit…Allthebloodrushesfrommyface,andIstareatChristianasmy
mouthfallsopen.
“What?”hesnaps,glaringatme.
“WhenIwoke…therewassomeoneinhere,”Iwhisper.“Ithoughtitwasmy
imagination.”
“What?”Helookshorrifiedanddashestothebalconydoor,peersout,then
stepsbackintotheroomandlocksthedoorbehindhim.“Areyousure?
Who?”heaskshisvoicetight.
“Awoman,Ithink.Itwasdark.I’donlyjustwokenup.”
“Getdressed,”hesnarlsatmeonhiswaybackin.“Now!”
“Myclothesareupstairs,”Iwhimper.
Hepullsopenoneofthedrawersinhischestofdrawersandfishesoutapair
ofsweatpants.
“Puttheseon.”Theyarefartoobig,butheisnottobearguedwith.
HeswipesaT-shirt,too,andquicklypullsitoverhishead.Grabbingthe
bedsidephone,hepressestwobuttons.
“She’sstillfuckinghere,”hehissesdownthephone.
Approximatelythreesecondslater,Taylorandoneoftheothersecurityguys,
burstintoChristian’sbedroom.Christiangivesthemaprécisofwhathas
happened.
“Howlongago?”Taylordemands,staringatmeallbusiness-like.He’sstill
wearinghisjacket.Doesthismaneversleep?
“Abouttenminutes,”Imutter,forsomereasonfeelingguilty.
“Sheknowstheapartmentlikethebackofherhand,”saysChristian.“Iam
takingAnastasiaawaynow.She’shidingheresomewhere.Findher.Whenis
Gailback?
“Tomorrowevening,sir.”
“She’snottoreturnuntilthisplaceissecure.Understand?”Christiansnaps.
“Yes,sir.WillyoubegoingtoBellevue?”
“I’mnotleadingthisproblemtomyparents.Bookmesomewhere.”
“Yes.I’llcallyou.”
“Aren’twealloverreactingslightly?”Iask.
Christianglowersatme.“Shemayhaveagun,”hegrowls.
“Christian,shewasstandingattheendofthebed.Shecouldhaveshotme
then,ifthat’swhatshewantedtodo.”
Christianpausesforamomenttoreininhistemper,Ithink.Inamenacingly
softvoicehesays,“I’mnotpreparedtotaketherisk.Taylor,Anastasianeeds
shoes.”
Christiandisappearsintohisclosetwhilethesecurityguywatchesme.Ican’t
rememberhisname,Ryanmaybe.Helooksalternatelydownthehallandto
thebalconywindows.
Christianemergesacoupleofminuteslaterwithaleathermessengerbag,
wearingjeansandhispinstripedblazer.Hedrapesadenimjacketaroundmy
shoulders.
“Come.”Heclaspsmyhandtightly,andIhavetopracticallyruntokeepup
withhislongstridesintothegreatroom.
“Ican’tbelieveshecouldhidesomewhereinhere,”Imutter,staringoutthe
balconydoors.
“It’sabigplace.Youhaven’tseenitallyet.”
“Whydon’tyoujustcallher…tellheryouwanttotalktoher?”
“Anastasia,she’sunstable,andshemaybearmed,”hesaysirritably.
“Sowejustrun?”
“Fornow—yes.”
“SupposingshetriestoshootTaylor?”
“Taylorknowsandunderstandsguns,”hesayswithdistaste.“He’llbequicker
withagunthansheis.”
“Raywasinthearmy.He’staughtmetoshoot.”
Christianraiseshiseyebrowsandforamomentlooksutterlybemused.“You,
withagun?”hesaysincredulously.
“Yes.”Iamaffronted.“Icanshoot,Mr.Grey,soyou’dbetterbeware.It’snot
justcrazyex-subsyouneedtoworryabout.”
“I’llbearthatinmind,MissSteele,”heanswersdryly,amused,anditfeels
goodtoknowthateveninthisridiculouslytensesituation,Icanmakehim
smile.
Taylormeetsusinthefoyerandhandsmemysmallsuitcaseandmyblack
Converse.
Iamstunnedthathe’spackedmesomeclothes.Ismileshylyathimwith
gratitude,andhisreturningsmileisswiftandreassuring.BeforeIcanstop
myself—Ihughim,hard.He’stakenbysurprise,andwhenIreleasehim,he’s
pinkinbothcheeks.
“Becareful,”Imurmur.
“Yes,MissSteele,”hemutters.
ChristianfrownsatmeandthenlooksquestioninglyatTaylor,whosmiles
veryslightlyandadjustshistie.
“LetmeknowwhereI’mgoing.”Christiansays.
Taylorreachesintohisjacket,pullsouthiswallet,andhandsChristiana
creditcard.
“Youmightwanttousethiswhenyougetthere.”
Christiannods.“Goodthinking.”
Ryanjoinsus.“SawyerandReynoldsfoundnothing,”hesaystoTaylor.
“AccompanyMr.GreyandMissSteeletothegarage,”Taylororders.
Thegarageisdeserted.Well,itisnearlythreeinthemorning.Christian
ushersmeintothepassengerseatoftheR8andputsmycaseandhisbagin
thetrunkatthefrontofthecar.
TheAudibesideusisacompletemess—everytireslashed,whitepaint
splatteredalloverit.It’schillingandmakesmegratefulthatChristianis
takingmesomewhereelse.
“AreplacementwillarriveonMonday,”Christiansaysbleaklywhenhe’s
seatedbesideme.
“Howcouldshehaveknownitwasmycar?”
Heglancesanxiouslyatmeandsighs.“ShehadanAudiA3.Ibuyoneforall
mysubmissives—it’soneofthesafestcarsinitsclass.”
Oh.“So,notsomuchagraduationpresent,then.”
“Anastasia,despitewhatIhoped,youhaveneverbeenmysubmissive,so
technicallyitisagraduationpresent.”Hepullsoutoftheparkingspaceand
speedstotheexit.
Despitewhathehoped.Ohno…mysubconsciousshakesherheadsadly.
Thisiswhatwecomebacktoallthetime.
“Areyoustillhoping?”Iwhisper.
Thein-carphonebuzzes.“Grey,”Christiansnaps.
“FairmontOlympic.Inmyname.”
“Thankyou,Taylor.And,Taylor,becareful.”
Taylorpauses.“Yes,sir,”hesaysquietly,andChristianhangsup.
ThestreetsofSeattlearedeserted,andChristianroarsupFifthAvenuetoward
theI-5.
Onceontheinterstate,hefloorsthegaspedal,headingnorth.Heaccelerates
soquicklyI’mmomentarilythrownbackinmyseat.
Ipeekathim.He’sdeepinthought,radiatingadeadlybroodingsilence.He
hasn’tansweredmyquestion.Heglancesfrequentlyattherear-viewmirror,
andIrealizehe’scheckingthatwe’renotbeingfollowed.Perhapsthat’swhy
we’reontheI-5.IthoughttheFairmontwasinSeattle.
Igazeoutofthewindow,tryingtorationalizemyexhausted,overactivemind.
Ifshe’dwantedtohurtme,shehadampleopportunityinthebedroom.
“No.It’snotwhatIhopefor,notanymore.Ithoughtthatwasobvious.”
Christianinterruptsmyintrospection,hisvoicesoft.
Iblinkathim,pullinghisdenimjackettighteraroundme,andIdon’tknowif
thechillisemanatingfromwithinmeorfromoutside.
“Iworrythat,youknow…thatI’mnotenough.”
“You’remorethanenough.FortheloveofGod,Anastasia,whatdoIhaveto
do?”
Tellmeaboutyourself.Tellmeyouloveme.
“WhydidyouthinkI’dleavewhenItoldyouDr.Flynnhadtoldmeallthere
wastoknowaboutyou?”
Hesighsheavily,closinghiseyesforamoment,andforthelongesttimehe
doesn’tanswer.“Youcannotbegintounderstandthedepthsofmydepravity,
Anastasia.Andit’snotsomethingIwanttosharewithyou.”
“AndyoureallythinkI’dleave,ifIknew?”Myvoiceishigh,incredulous.
Doesn’theunderstandthatIlovehim?“Doyouthinksolittleofme?”
“Iknowyou’llleave,”hesayssadly.
“Christian…Ithinkthat’sveryunlikely.Ican’timaginebeingwithoutyou.”
Ever…
“Youleftmeonce—Idon’twanttogothereagain.”
“ElenasaidshesawyoulastSaturday,”Iwhisperquietly.
“Shedidn’t.”Hefrowns.
“Youdidn’tgotoseeher,whenIleft?”
“No,”hesnaps,irritated.“IjusttoldyouIdidn’t—andIdon’tliketobe
doubted,”hescolds.“Ididn’tgoanywherelastweekend.Isatandmadethe
glideryougaveme.Tookmeforever,”headdsquietly.
Myheartclenchesagain.Mrs.Robinsonsaidshesawhim.
Didsheordidn’tshe?She’slying.Why?
“ContrarytowhatElenathinks,Idon’trushtoherwithallmyproblems,
Anastasia.Idon’trushtoanybody.Youmayhavenoticed—I’mnotmuchofa
talker.”Hetightenshisholdonthesteeringwheel.
“Carricktoldmeyoudidn’ttalkfortwoyears.”
“Didhenow?”Christian’smouthpressesintoahardline.
“Ikindofpumpedhimforinformation.”Embarrassed,Istareatmyfingers.
“SowhatelsedidDaddysay?”
“Hesaidyourmomwasthedoctorwhoexaminedyouwhenyouwere
broughtintothehospital.Afteryouwerediscoveredinyourapartment.”
Christian’sexpressionremainsblank…careful.
“Hesaidlearningthepianohelped.AndMia.”
Hislipscurlinafondsmileatthementionofhername.Afteramomenthe
says,“Shewasaboutsixmonthsoldwhenshearrived.Iwasthrilled,Elliot
lessso.He’dalreadyhadtocontendwithmyarrival.Shewasperfect.”The
sweet,sadaweinhisvoiceisaffecting.
“Lesssonow,ofcourse,”hemutters,andIrecallhersuccessfulattemptsat
theballtothwartourlasciviousintentions.Itmakesmegiggle.
Christiangivesmeasidewaysglance.“Youfindthatamusing,MissSteele?”
“Sheseemeddeterminedtokeepusapart.”
Helaughsmirthlessly.“Yes,she’squiteaccomplished.”Hereachesacrossand
squeezesmyknee.“Butwegotthereintheend.”Hesmilesthenglancesin
therear-viewmirroroncemore.“Idon’tthinkwe’vebeenfollowed.”He
turnsofftheI-5andheadsbacktocentralSeattle.
“CanIaskyousomethingaboutElena?”Wearestoppedatsometraffic
lights.
Hegazesatmewarily.“Ifyoumust,”hemutterssullenly,butIdon’tlethis
irritabilitydeterme.
“Youtoldmeagesagothatshelovedyouinawayyoufoundacceptable.
Whatdidthatmean?”
“Isn’titobvious?”heasks.
“Nottome.”
“Iwasoutofcontrol.Icouldn’tbeartobetouched.Ican’tbearitnow.Fora
fourteen,fifteen-year-oldadolescentboywithhormonesraging,itwasa
difficulttime.Sheshowedmeawaytoletoffsteam.”
Oh.“Miasaidyouwereabrawler.”
“Christ,whatisitwithmyloquaciousfamily?Actually—it’syou.”We’ve
stoppedatmorelights,andhenarrowshiseyesatme.“Youinveigle
informationoutofpeople.”Heshakeshisheadinmockdisgust.
“Miavolunteeredthatinformation.Infact,shewasveryforthcoming.She
wasworriedyou’dstartabrawlinthemarqueeifyoudidn’twinmeatthe
auction,”Imutterindignantly.
“Oh,baby,therewasnodangerofthat.TherewasnowayIwouldletanyone
elsedancewithyou.”
“YouletDr.Flynn.”
“He’salwaystheexceptiontotherule.”
Christianpullsintotheimpressive,leafydrivewayoftheFairmontOlympic
Hotelandparksnearthefrontdoor,besideaquaintstonefountain.
“Come.”Heclimbsoutofthecarandretrievesourluggage.Avaletrushes
towardus,lookingsurprised—nodoubtatourlatearrival.Christiantosses
himthecarkeys.
“NameofTaylor,”hesays.Thevaletnodsandcan’tcontainhisgleeashe
leapsintotheR8anddrivesoff.Christiantakesmyhandandstridesintothe
lobby.
AsIstandbesidehimatthereceptiondesk,Ifeelutterly,utterlyridiculous.
HereIam,inSeattle’smostprestigioushotel,dressedinanoversizeddenim
jacket,oversizedsweatpants,andanoldT-shirtnexttothiselegant,beautiful,
Greekgod.Nowonderthereceptionistislookingfromonetotheotherasif
theequationdoesn’taddup.Ofcourse,she’sover-awedbyChristian.Iroll
myeyesassheflushescrimsonandstutters.Jeez,evenherhandsareshaking.
“Do…youneedahand…withyourbags,Mr.Taylor?”sheasks,going
scarletagain.
“No,Mrs.TaylorandIcanmanage.”
Mrs.Taylor!ButI’mnotwearingaring.Iputmyhandsbehindmyback.
“You’reintheCascadeSuite,Mr.Taylor,eleventhfloor.Ourbellboywill
helpwithyourbags.”
“We’refine,”Christiansayscurtly.“Wherearetheelevators?”
MissFlushingCrimsonexplains,andChristiangraspsmyhandoncemore.I
glancebrieflyroundtheimpressive,sumptuouslobbyfullofoverstuffed
chairs,desertedsaveforadark-hairedwomansittingonacosysofa,feeding
tidbitstoherWestie.Sheglancesupandsmilesatusaswemakeourwayto
theelevators.Sothehotelallowspets?Oddforaplacesogrand!
Thesuitehastwobedrooms,aformaldiningroom,andcomescompletewith
grandpiano.Alogfireblazesinthemassivemainroom.Jeez…Thissuiteis
biggerthanmyapartment.
“Well,Mrs.Taylor,Idon’tknowaboutyou,butI’dreallylikeadrink,”
Christianmutters,lockingthefrontdoorsecurely.
Inthebedroom,heputsmycaseandhissatchelontheottomanatthefootof
theking-sizefour-posterbedandleadsmebythehandintothemainroom
wherethefireisburningbrightly.It’sawelcomesight.Istandandwarmmy
handswhileChristianfixesusbothadrink.
“Armagnac?”
“Please.”
Afteramoment,hejoinsmebythefireandhandsmeacrystalbrandyglass.
“It’sbeenquiteaday,huh?”
Inodandhisgreyeyesgazeatmesearchingly,concerned.
“I’mokay,”Iwhisperreassuringly.“Howaboutyou?”
“Well,rightnowI’dliketodrinkthisandthen,ifyou’renottootired,take
youtobedandlosemyselfinyou.”
“Ithinkthatcanbearranged,Mr.Taylor.”Ismileshylyathimasheshuffles
outofhisshoesandpeelsoffhissocks.
“Mrs.Taylor,stopbitingyourlip,”hewhispers.
Iblushintomyglass.TheArmagnacisdelicious,leavingaburningwarmth
initswakeasitglidessilkilydownmythroat.WhenIglanceupatChristian,
he’ssippinghisbrandy,watchingme,hiseyesdark—hungry.
“Youneverceasetoamazeme,Anastasia.Afteradayliketoday—or
yesterday,rather—you’renotwhiningorrunningoffintothehillsscreaming.
Iaminaweofyou.You’reverystrong.”
“You’reaverygoodreasontostay,”Imurmur.“Itoldyou,Christian,I’mnot
goinganywhere,nomatterwhatyou’vedone.YouknowhowIfeelabout
you.”
Hismouthtwistsasifhedoubtsmywords,andhisbrowcreasesasifwhat
I’msayingispainfulforhimtohear.Oh,Christian,whatdoIhavetodoto
makeyourealizehowIfeel?Lethimbeatyou,mysubconscioussneersatme.
Iscowlinwardlyather.
“WhereareyougoingtohangJosé’sportraitsofme?”Itrytolightenthe
mood.
“Thatdepends.”Hislipstwitch.Thisisobviouslyamuchmorepalatable
topicofconversationforhim.
“Onwhat?”
“Circumstances,”hesaysmysteriously.“Hisshow’snotoveryet,soIdon’t
havetodecidestraightaway.”
Icockmyheadtoonesideandnarrowmyeyes.
“Youcanlookassternlyasyoulike,Mrs.Taylor.I’msayingnothing,”he
teases.
“Imaytorturethetruthfromyou.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“Really,Anastasia,Idon’tthinkyoushouldmake
promisesyoucan’tfulfil.”
Ohmy,isthatwhathethinks?Iplacemyglassonthemantelpiece,reach
over,andmuchtoChristian’ssurprise,takehisglassandplaceitbesidemine.
“We’lljusthavetoseeaboutthat,”Imurmur.Verybravely—emboldenedby
thebrandy,nodoubt—ItakeChristian’shandandpullhimtowardthe
bedroom.AtthefootofthebedIstop.Christianistryingtohidehis
amusement.
“Nowyouhavemeinhere,Anastasia,whatareyougoingtodowithme?”he
teases,hisvoicelow.
“I’mgoingtostartbyundressingyou.IwanttofinishwhatIstartedearlier.”I
reachforthelapelsonhisjacket,carefulnottotouchhim,andhedoesn’t
flinchbuthe’sholdinghisbreath.
Gently,Ipushhisjacketoverhisshoulders,andhiseyesstayonmine,all
tracesofhumourgone,astheygrowlarger,burningintome,waryand
needful?Therearesomanyinterpretationsofhislook.Whatishethinking?I
placehisjacketontheottoman.
“NowyourT-shirt,”Iwhisperandliftitbythehem.Hecooperates,raising
hisarmsandbackingaway,makingiteasierformetopullitoff.Onceoff,he
gazesdownatme,intently,wearingjusthisjeansthathangsoprovocatively
fromhiships.Thebandofhisboxerbriefsisvisible.
Myeyesmovehungrilyupacrosshistautstomachtotheremainsofthe
lipstickline,fadedandsmudged,thenuptohischest.Iwantnothingmore
thantorunmytonguethroughhischesthairtosavourhistaste.
“Nowwhat?”hewhispers,eyesblazing.
“Iwanttokissyouhere.”Irunmyfingerfromhipbonetohipboneacrosshis
belly.
Hislipspartasheinhalessharply.“I’mnotstoppingyou,”hebreathes.
Itakehishand.“You’dbetterliedownthen,”Imurmurandleadhimtothe
sideofthefour-posterbed.Heseemsbewildered,anditoccurstomethat
perhapsnoonehastakentheleadwithhimsince…her.No,don’tgothere.
Liftingthecovers,hesitsontheedgeofthebed,gazingupatme,waiting,his
expressionwaryandserious.Istandbeforehimandslipoffhisdenimjacket
andletitdroptothefloor,thenIshuffleoutofhissweatpants.
Herubshisthumboverthetipsofhisfingers.He’sitchingtotouchme,Ican
tell,buthesuppressestheurge.Takingadeepbreathandbeyondcourageous,
IreachforthehemofmyT-shirtandliftitovermyheadsoIamnakedbefore
him.Hiseyesdon’tleavemine,butheswallowsandhislipspart.
“YouareAphrodite,Anastasia,”hemurmurs.
Iclasphisfaceinmyhands,tiphisheadup,andbendtokisshim.Hegroans
lowinhisthroat.
AsIplacemymouthonhis,hegrabsmyhips,andbeforeIknowit,Iam
pinnedbeneathhim,hislegsforcingmineapartsothathe’scradledagainst
mybodybetweenmylegs.He’skissingme,ravagingmymouth,ourtongues
entwined.Hishandtrailsfrommythigh,overmyhip,alongmybellytomy
breast,squeezing,kneading,andpullingenticinglyonmynipple.
Igroanandtiltmypelvisinvoluntarilyagainsthim,findingadelicious
frictionagainsttheseamofhisflyandhisgrowingerection.Hestopskissing
meandgazesdownatmebemusedandbreathless.Heflexeshishipssohis
erectionpushesagainstme….Yes.Rightthere.
Iclosemyeyesandmoan,andhedoesitagain,butthistimeIpushback,
relishinghisansweringmoanashekissesmeagain.Hecontinuestheslow
delicioustorture—rubbingme,rubbinghim.Andhe’sright—gettinglostin
him—it’sintoxicatingtotheexclusionofeverythingelse.Allmyworriesare
obliterated.
Iamhereinthismomentwithhim—mybloodsinginginmyveins,
thrummingloudlythroughmyears,mixedwiththesoundofourpanting
breaths.Iburymyhandsinhishair,holdinghimtomymouth,consuming
him,mytongueasavariciousashis.Itrailmyfingersdownhisarms,down
hislowerbacktothewaistbandofhisjeansandpushmyintrepid,greedy
handsinside,urginghimonandon—forgettingeverything,exceptus.
“You’regoingtounmanme,Ana,”hewhisperssuddenly,breakingaway
frommeandkneelingup.Hebrisklypullsdownhisjeansandhandsmeafoil
packet.
“Youwantme,baby,andIsureashellwantyou.Youknowwhattodo.”
Withanxious,dexterousfingers,Iripopenthefoilandunrollthecondom
overhim.Hegrinsdownatme,hismouthopen,eyesmistygreyandfullof
carnalpromise.Leaningoverme,herubshisnoseagainstmine,hiseyes
closed,anddeliciously,slowly,heentersme.
Igrasphisarmsandtiltmychinup,revellingintheexquisitelyfullfeelingof
hispossession.Herunshisteethalongmychin,easesback,andthenslides
intomeagain—soslow,sosweet,sotender—hisbodypressingdownonme,
hiselbowsandhishandsoneithersideofmyface.
“Youmakemeforgeteverything.Youarethebesttherapy,”hebreathes,
movingatanachinglyleisurelypace,savouringeveryinchofme.
“Please,Christian—faster,”Imurmur,wantingmore,now.
“Ohno,baby.Ineedthisslow.”Hekissesmesweetly,gentlybitingmylower
lipandabsorbingmysoftmoans.
Imovemyhandsintohishairandsurrendermyselftohisrhythmasslowly
andsurelymybodyclimbshigherandhigherandplateaus,thenfallshardand
fastasIcomearoundhim.“Oh,Ana,”hebreathesasheletsgo,mynamea
benedictiononhislipsashefindshisrelease.
Hisheadrestsonmybelly,hisarmswrappedaroundme.Myfingersforage
inhisunrulyhair,andwelielikethisforIdon’tknowhowlong.It’ssolate
andIamsotired,butIjustwanttoenjoythequietsereneafter-glowof
makinglovewithChristianGrey,becausethat’swhatwe’vedone,gentle,
sweetlovemaking.
He’scomealongway,ashaveI,insuchashorttime.It’salmosttoomuchto
absorb.
Withallthefucked-upstuff,Iamlosingsightofhissimple,honestjourney
withme.
“Iwillnevergetenoughofyou.Don’tleaveme,”hemurmursandkissesmy
belly.
“I’mnotgoinganywhere,Christian,andIseemtorememberthatIwantedto
kissyourbelly,”Igrumblesleepily.
Hegrinsagainstmyskin.“Nothingstoppingyounowbaby.”
“Idon’tthinkIcanmoveI’msotired.”
Christiansighsandshiftsreluctantly,comingtoliebesidemewithhishead
onhiselbowanddraggingthecoversoverus.Hegazesdownatme,hiseyes
glowing,warm,loving.
“Sleepnow,baby.”HekissesmyhairandwrapshisarmaroundmeandI
drift.
WhenIopenmyeyes,lightisfillingtheroom,makingmeblink.Myheadis
fuzzyfromlackofsleep.WhereamI?Oh—thehotel…
“Hi,”Christianmurmurs,smilingfondlyatme.He’slyingbesideme,fully
dressed,ontopofthebed.Howlonghashebeenhere?Hashebeenstudying
me?Suddenly,Ifeelincrediblyshyasmyfaceheatsunderhissteadygaze.
“Hi,”Imurmur,gratefulthatIamlyingonmyfront.“Howlonghaveyou
beenwatchingme?”
“Icouldwatchyousleepforhours,Anastasia.ButI’veonlybeenhereabout
fiveminutes.”Heleansoverandkissesmegently.“Dr.Greenewillbehere
shortly.”
“Oh.”I’dforgottenaboutChristian’sinappropriateintervention.
“Didyousleepwell?”heinquiresmildly.“Certainlyseemedlikeittome,
withallthatsnoring.”
Oh,playfulteasingFifty.
“Idonotsnore!”Ipoutpetulantly.
“No.Youdon’t.”Hegrinsatme.Thefaintlineofredlipstickisstillvisible
aroundhisneck.“Didyoushower?”
“No.Waitingforyou.”
“Oh…okay.”
“Whattimeisit?”
“Tenfifteen.Ididn’thavethehearttowakeyouearlier.”
“Youtoldmeyoudidn’thaveaheartatall.”
Hesmiles,sadlybutdoesn’tanswer.“Breakfastishere—pancakesandbacon
foryou.
Come,getup,I’mgettinglonelyouthere.”Heswatsmesharplyonmy
behind,makingmejump,andrisesfromthebed.
Hmm…Christian’sversionofwarmaffection.
AsIstretch,I’mawareIacheallover…nodoubtaresultofallthesex,
dancing,andteeteringinexpensivehigh-heeledshoes.Istaggeroutofbed
andmakemywayintothesumptuouslyappointedbathroomwhilegoingover
theeventsofthepreviousdayinmymind.WhenIcomeout,Idononeofthe
over-fluffybathrobesthathangonabrasspeginthebathroom.
Leila—thegirlwholookslikeme—that’sthemoststartlingimagemybrain
conjuresforconjecture,thatandhereeriepresenceinChristian’sbedroom.
Whatdidshewant?Me?
Christian?Todowhat?Andwhythefuckhasshewreckedmycar?
ChristiansaidIwouldhaveanotherAudi,likeallhissubmissives.The
thoughtisunwelcome.SinceIwassogenerouswiththemoneyhegaveme,
there’snotalotIcando.
Iwanderintothemainroomofthesuite—nosignofChristian.Ifinallylocate
himinthediningroom.Itakeaseat,gratefulfortheimpressivebreakfastlaid
beforeme.ChristianisreadingtheSundaypapersanddrinkingcoffee,his
breakfastfinished.Hesmilesatme.
“Eatup.You’regoingtoneedyourstrengthtoday,”heteases.
“Andwhyisthat?Yougoingtolockmeinthebedroom?”Myinnergoddess
jerksawakesuddenly,alldishevelledwithajust-fuckedlook.
“Appealingasthatideais,Ithoughtwe’dgoouttoday.Getsomefreshair.”
“Isitsafe?”Iaskinnocently,tryingandfailingtokeeptheironyfrommy
voice.
Christian’sfacefalls,andhismouthpressesinaline.“Wherewe’regoing,it
is.Andit’snotajokingmatter,”headdssternly,narrowinghiseyes.
Iflushandstaredownatmybreakfast.Idon’tfeellikebeingscoldedafterall
thedramaandsuchalatenight.Ieatmybreakfastinsilence,feelingpetulant.
Mysubconsciousisshakingherheadatme.Fiftydoesn’tjokeaboutmy
safety—Ishouldknowthisbynow.Iwanttorollmyeyesathim,butI
refrain.
Okay,I’mtiredandtesty.Ihadalongdayyesterdayandnotenoughsleep.
Why,ohwhydoeshegettolookasfreshasadaisy?Lifeisnotfair.
There’saknockatthedoor.
“That’llbethegooddoctor,”Christiangrumbles,obviouslystillsmarting
frommyirony.Hestalksfromthetable.
Can’twejusthaveacalm,normalmorning?Isighheavily,leavinghalfmy
breakfast,andgetuptogreetDoctorDepo-Provera.
We’reinthebedroom,andDr.Greeneisstaringatmeopen-mouthed.She’s
dressedmorecasuallythanlasttimeinapalepinkcashmeretwinsetand
blackpants,andherfineblondhairisloose.
“Andyoujuststoppedtakingit?Justlikethat?”
Iflush,feelingbeyondfoolish.
“Yes.”Couldmyvoicebeanysmaller?
“Youcouldbepregnant,”shesaysmatter-of-factly.
What!Theworldfallsawayatmyfeet.Mysubconsciouscollapsesonthe
floorretching,andIthinkI’mgoingtobesick,too.No!
“Here,gopeeinthis.”She’sallbusinesstoday—takingnoprisoners.
Meekly,Iacceptthesmallplasticcontainershe’sofferedandwanderina
dazeintothebathroom.No.No.No.Noway…Noway…Pleaseno.No.
WhatwillFiftydo?Igopale.He’llfreak.
No,please!Iwhisperasilentprayer.
IhandDr.Greenemysample,andshecarefullyplacesasmallwhitestickin
it.
“Whendidyourperiodstart?”
HowamIsupposedtothinkaboutsuchminutiaewhenallIcandoisstare
anxiouslyatthewhitestick?
“Er…Wednesday?Nottheonejustgone,theonebeforethat.Junefirst.”
“Andwhendidyoustoptakingthepill?”
“Sunday.LastSunday.”
Shepursesherlips.
“Youshouldbeokay,”shesayssharply.“Icantellbyyourexpressionthatan
un-plannedpregnancywouldnotbewelcomenews.SoMedroxyprogesterone
isagoodideaifyoucan’tremembertotakethepilleveryday.”Shegivesme
asternlook,andIquailunderherauthoritativeglare.Pickingupthewhite
stick,shepeersatit.
“You’reintheclear.You’venotovulatedyet,soprovidedyou’vebeentaking
properprecautions,youshouldn’tbepregnant.Now,letmecounselyouabout
thisshot.Wedis-counteditlasttimebecauseofthesideeffects,butquite
frankly,thesideeffectsofachildarefar-reachingandgoonforyears.”She
smiles,pleasedwithherselfandherlittlejoke,butIcan’tbegintorespond—
I’mtoostunned.
Dr.Greenelaunchesintofulldisclosuremodeaboutsideeffects,andIsit
paralyzedwithrelief,notlisteningtoaword.IthinkI’dtolerateanynumber
ofstrangewomenstandingattheendofmybedratherthanconfessto
ChristianthatImightbepregnant.
“Ana!”Dr.Greenesnaps.“Let’sdothisthing.”Shepullsmeoutofmy
reverie,andIwillinglyrollupmysleeve.
Christianclosesthedoorbehindherandgazesatmewarily.“Everything
okay?”heasks.
Inodmutely,andhetiltshisheadtooneside,hisfacetensewithconcern.
“Anastasia,whatisit?WhatdidDr.Greenesay?”
Ishakemyhead.“You’regoodtogoinsevendays,”Imutter.
“Sevendays?”
“Yes.”
“Ana,what’swrong?”
Iswallow.“It’snothingtoworryabout.Please,Christian,justleaveit.”
Christianloomsinfrontofme.Hegraspsmychin,tippingmyheadback,and
staresemphaticallyintomyeyes,tryingtodeciphermypanic.
“Tellme,”hesnapsinsistently.
“There’snothingtotell.I’dliketogetdressed.”Ipullmychinoutofhis
reach.
Hesighsandrunsahandthroughhishair,frowningatme.“Let’sshower,”he
sayseventually.
“Ofcourse,”Imutter,distracted,andhismouthtwists.
“Come,”hesayssulkily,claspingmyhandfirmly.Hestalkstowardthe
bathroomasItrailbehindhim.Iamnottheonlyoneinabadmood,itseems.
Firinguptheshower,Christianquicklystripsbeforeturningtome.
“Idon’tknowwhat’supsetyou,orifyou’rejustbad-temperedthroughlack
ofsleep,”
hesayswhileunfasteningmyrobe.“ButIwantyoutotellme.My
imaginationisrunningawaywithme,andIdon’tlikeit.”
Irollmyeyesathim,andheglaresbackatme,narrowinghiseyes.Shit!
Okay…heregoes.“Dr.Greenescoldedmeaboutmissingthepill.ShesaidI
couldbepregnant.”
“What?”Hepales,andhishandsfreezeashegazesatme,suddenlyashen.
“ButI’mnot.Shedidatest.Itwasashock,that’sall.Ican’tbelieveIwas
thatstupid.”
Hevisiblyrelaxes.“You’resureyou’renot?”
“Yes.”
Heblowsoutadeepbreath.“Good.Yes,Icanseethatnewslikethatwould
beveryupsetting.”
Ifrown.…upsetting?“Iwasmoreworriedaboutyourreaction.”
Hefurrowshisbrowatme,puzzled.“Myreaction?Well,naturallyI’m
relieved…itwouldbetheheightofcarelessnessandbadmannerstoknock
youup.”
“Thenmaybeweshouldabstain,”Isnap.
Hegazesatmeforamoment,bewildered,asifI’msomekindofscience
experiment.
“Youareinabadtemperthismorning.”
“Itwasjustashock,that’sall,”Irepeatpetulantly.
Claspingthelapelsofmyrobe,hepullsmeintoawarmembrace,kissesmy
hair,andpressesmyheadagainsthischest.I’mdistractedbyhischesthairas
itticklesmycheek.
Oh,ifIcouldjustnuzzlehim!
“Ana,I’mnotusedtothis,”hemurmurs.“Mynaturalinclinationistobeatit
outofyou,butIseriouslydoubtyouwantthat.”
Holyshit.“No,Idon’t.Thishelps.”IhugChristiantighter,andwestandfor
anageinastrangeembrace,Christiannakedandmewrappedinarobe.Iam
onceagainflooredbyhishonesty.Heknowsnothingaboutrelationships,and
neitherdoI,exceptwhatI’velearnedfromhim.Well,he’saskedforfaithand
patience;maybeIshoulddothesame.
“Come,let’sshower,”Christiansayseventually,releasingme.
Steppingback,hepeelsmeoutofmyrobe,andIfollowhimintothe
cascadingwater,holdingmyfaceuptothetorrent.There’sroomforbothof
usunderthegargantuanshowerhead.Christianreachesfortheshampooand
startswashinghishair.HehandsittomeandIfollowsuit.
Oh,thisfeelsgood.Closingmyeyes,Isuccumbtothecleansing,warming
water.AsIrinseofftheshampoo,Ifeelhishandsonme,soapingmybody:
myshoulders,myarms,undermyarms,mybreasts,myback.Gentlyheturns
mearoundandpullsmeagainsthimashecontinuesdownmybody:my
stomach,mybelly,hisskilledfingersbetweenmylegs—hmm—mybehind.
Oh,thatfeelsgoodandsointimate.Heturnsmearoundtofacehimagain.
“Here,”hesaysquietly,handingmethebodywash.“Iwantyoutowashoff
theremainsofthelipstick.”
Myeyesopeninaflurryanddartquicklytohis.He’sstaringatmeintently,
soakingwetandbeautiful,hisglorious,brightgreyeyesgivingnothingaway.
“Don’tstrayfarfromtheline,please,”hemutterstightly.
“Okay,”Imurmur,tryingtoabsorbtheenormityofwhathe’sjustaskedmeto
do—totouchhimontheedgeoftheforbiddenzone.
Isqueezeasmallamountofsoaponmyhand,rubmyhandstogetherto
createalather,thenplacethemonhisshouldersandgentlywashawaythe
lineoflipstickoneachside.Hestillsandcloseshiseyes,hisfaceimpassive,
buthe’sbreathingrapidly,andIknowit’snotlustbutfear.Itcutsmetothe
quick.
Withtremblingfingers,Icarefullyfollowthelinedownthesideofhischest,
soapingandrubbingsoftly,andheswallows,hisjawtenseasifhisteethare
clenched.Oh!Myheartconstrictsandmythroattightens.Ohno,I’mgoingto
cry.
Istoptoaddmoresoaptomyhandandfeelhimrelaxinfrontofme.Ican’t
lookupathim.Ican’tbeartoseehispain—it’stoomuch.Iswallow.
“Ready?”Imurmurandthetensionisloudandclearinmyvoice.
“Yes,”hewhispers,hisvoicehusky,lacedwithfear.
Gently,Iplacemyhandsoneithersideofhischest,andhefreezesagain.
It’stoomuch.Iamoverwhelmedbyhistrustinme—overwhelmedbyhis
fear,bythedamagedonetothisbeautiful,fallen,flawedman.
Tearspoolinmyeyesandspilldownmyface,lostinthewaterfromthe
shower.Oh,Christian!Whodidthistoyou?
Hisdiaphragmmovesrapidlywitheachshallowbreath,hisbodyisrigid,
tensionradiatingoffhiminwavesasmyhandsmovealongtheline,erasing
it.Oh,ifIcouldjusteraseyourpain,Iwould—I’ddoanything—andIwant
nothingmorethantokisseverysinglescarIsee,tokissawaythosehideous
yearsofneglect.ButIknowIcan’t,andmytearsfallunbiddendownmy
cheeks.
“No.Please,don’tcry,”hemurmurs,hisvoiceanguishedashewrapsme
tightlyinhisarms.“Pleasedon’tcryforme.”AndIburstintofull-blown
sobs,buryingmyfaceagainsthisneck,asIthinkofalittleboylostinaseaof
fearandpain,frightened,neglected,abused—hurtbeyondallendurance.
Pullingaway,heclaspsmyheadwithbothhands,tiltsitbackward,andleans
downtokissme.
“Don’tcry,Ana,please,”hemurmursagainstmymouth.“Itwaslongago.I
amachingforyoutotouchme,butIjustcan’tbearit.It’stoomuch.Please,
pleasedon’tcry.”
“Iwanttotouchyou,too.Morethanyou’lleverknow.Toseeyoulikethis…
sohurtandafraid,Christian…itwoundsmedeeply.Iloveyousomuch.”
Herunshisthumbacrossmybottomlip.“Iknow.Iknow,”hewhispers.
“You’reveryeasytolove.Don’tyouseethat?”
“No,baby,Idon’t.”
“Youare.AndIdoandsodoesyourfamily.SodoElenaandLeila—they
haveastrangewayofshowingit—buttheydo.Youareworthy.”
“Stop.”Heputshisfingerovermylipsandshakeshishead,anagonized
expressiononhisface.“Ican’thearthis.I’mnothing,Anastasia.I’mahusk
ofaman.Idon’thaveaheart.”
“Yes,youdo.AndIwantit,allofit.You’reagoodman,Christian,areally
goodman.
Don’teverdoubtthat.Lookatwhatyou’vedone…whatyou’veachieved,”I
sob.“Lookwhatyou’vedoneforme…whatyou’veturnedyourbackon,for
me,”Iwhisper.“Iknow.
Iknowhowyoufeelaboutme.”
Hegazesdownatme,hiseyeswideandpanicked,andallwecanhearisthe
steadystreamofwaterasitflowsoverusintheshower.
“Youloveme,”Iwhisper.
Hiseyeswidenfurtherandhismouthopens.Hetakesahugebreathasif
winded.Helookstortured—vulnerable.
“Yes,”hewhispers.“Ido.”
Icannotcontainmyjubilation.Mysubconsciousgapesatmeopen-mouthed
—instunnedsilence—andIwearaface-splittinggrinasIgazelonginglyup
intoChristian’swide,torturedeyes.
Hissoftsweetconfessioncallstomeonsomedeepelementallevelasifhe’s
seekingabsolution;histhreesmallwordsaremymannafromheaven.Tears
prickmyeyesoncemore.Yes,youdo.Iknowyoudo.
It’ssuchaliberatingrealizationasifacrushingmillstonehasbeentossed
aside.Thisbeautiful,fucked-upman,whomIoncethoughtofasmyromantic
hero—strong,solitary,mysterious—possessesallthesetraits,buthe’salso
fragileandalienatedandfullofself-loathing.Myheartswellswithjoybut
alsopainforhissuffering.AndIknowinthismomentthatmyheartisbig
enoughforbothofus.Ihopeit’sbigenoughforbothofus.
Ireachuptoclasphisdear,dear,handsomefaceandkisshimgently,pouring
alltheloveIfeelintothisonesweetconnection.Iwanttodevourhim
beneaththehotcascadingwater.Christiangroansandencirclesmeinhis
arms,holdingmeasifIamtheairheneedstobreathe.
“Oh,Ana,”hewhispershoarsely,“Iwantyou,butnothere.”
“Yes,”Imurmurferventlyintohismouth.
Heswitchesofftheshowerandtakesmyhand,leadingmeoutandenfolding
meinmybathrobe.Grabbingatowel,hewrapsitaroundhiswaist,thentakes
asmalleroneandbeginstogentlydrymyhair.Whenhe’ssatisfied,he
swathesthetowelaroundmyheadsothatinthelargemirroroverthesinkI
looklikeI’mwearingaveil.He’sstandingbehindmeandoureyesmeetin
themirror,smoulderinggreytobrightblue,anditgivesmeanidea.
“CanIreciprocate?”Iask.
Henods,thoughhisbrowcreases.Ireachforanothertowelfromtheplethora
offluffytowelsstackedbesidethevanity,andstandingbeforehimontiptoe,I
starttodryhishair.
Hebendsforward,makingtheprocesseasier,andasIcatchtheoccasional
glimpseofhisfacebeneaththetowel,Iseehe’sgrinningatmelikeasmall
boy.
“It’salongtimesinceanyonedidthistome.Averylongtime,”hemurmurs,
butthenfrowns.“InfactIdon’tthinkanyone’severdriedmyhair.”
“SurelyGracedid?Driedyourhairwhenyouwereyoung?”
Heshakeshishead,hamperingmyprogress.
“No.Sherespectedmyboundariesfromdayone,eventhoughitwaspainful
forher.Iwasveryself-sufficientasachild,”hesaysquietly.
IfeelaswiftkickintheribsasIthinkofasmallcopper-hairedchildlooking
afterhimselfbecausenooneelsecares.Thethoughtissickeninglysad.ButI
don’twantmymelancholytohijackthisblossomingintimacy.
“Well,I’mhonoured,”Igentlyteasehim.
“Thatyouare,MissSteele.OrmaybeitisIwhoamhonoured.”
“Thatgoeswithoutsaying,Mr.Grey,”Irespondtartly.
Ifinishwithhishair,reachforanothersmalltowel,andmoveroundtostand
behindhim.Oureyesmeetagaininthemirror,andhiswatchful,questioning
lookpromptsmetospeak.
“CanItrysomething?”
Afteramoment,henods.Warily,andverygently,Irunthesoftclothdown
hisleftarm,soakingupthewaterthathasbeadedonhisskin.Glancingup,I
checkhisexpressioninthemirror.Heblinksatme,hiseyesburninginto
mine.
Ileanforwardandkisshisbicep,andhislipspartinfinitesimally.Idryhis
otherarminasimilarfashion,trailingkissesaroundhisbicep,andasmall
smileplaysonhislips.
Carefully,Iwipehisbackbeneaththefaintlipstickline,whichisstillvisible.
Ihadn’tgottenroundtowashinghisback.
“Wholeback,”hesaysquietly,“withthetowel.”Hetakesasharpbreathand
screwshiseyesclosedasIbrisklydryhim,carefultotouchhimonlywiththe
towel.
Hehassuchanattractiveback—broad,sculpturedshoulders,allthesmall
musclesclearlydefined.Hereallylooksafterhimself.Thebeautifulsightis
marredonlybyhisscars.
Withdifficulty,Iignorethemandsuppressmyoverwhelmingurgetokiss
eachandeveryone.WhenIfinishheexhales,andIleanforwardandreward
himwithakissonhisshoulder.Puttingmyarmsaroundhim,Idryhis
stomach.Oureyesmeetoncemoreinthemirror,hisexpressionamusedbut
wary,too.
“Holdthis.”Ihandhimasmallerfacetowel,andhegivesmeabemused
frown.“RememberinGeorgia?Youmademetouchmyselfusingyour
hands,”Iadd.
Hisfacedarkens,butIignorehisreactionandputmyarmsaroundhim.
Gazingatusbothinthemirror—hisbeauty,hisnakedness,andmewithmy
coveredhair—welookalmostBiblical,asiffromanOldTestamentbaroque
painting.
Ireachforhishand,whichhewillinglyentruststome,andguideituptohis
chesttodryit,sweepingthetowelslowly,awkwardlyacrosshisbody.Once,
twice—thenagain.
He’scompletelyimmobilized,rigidwithtension,exceptforhiseyes,which
followmyhandclaspedaroundhis.
Mysubconsciouslooksonwithapproval,hernormallypursedmouthsmiling,
andIamthesupremepuppetmaster.Hisanxietyripplesoffhisbackin
waves,buthemaintainseyecontact,thoughhiseyesaredarker,moredeadly.
Showingtheirsecretsmaybe.
IsthisaplaceIwanttogo?DoIwanttoconfronthisdemons?
“Ithinkyou’redrynow,”IwhisperasIdropmyhand,gazingintothegrey
depthsofhiseyesinthemirror.Hisbreathingisaccelerated,lipsparted.
“Ineedyou,Anastasia,”hewhispers.
“Ineedyou,too.”AndasIsaythewords,Iamstruckhowtruetheyare.I
cannotimaginebeingwithoutChristian,ever.
“Letmeloveyou,”hesayshoarsely.
“Yes,”Ianswer,andturning,hehaulsmeintohisarms,hislipsseekingmine,
beseechingme,worshippingme,cherishingme…lovingme.
Hetrailshisfingersupanddownmyspineaswegazeateachother,basking
inourpost-coitalbliss,replete.Welietogether,meonmyfronthuggingmy
pillow,heonhisside,andIamtreasuringhistendertouch.Iknowthatright
nowheneedstotouchme.Iamabalmforhim,asourceofsolace,andhow
couldIdenyhimthat?Ifeelexactlythesameabouthim.
“Soyoucanbegentle,”Imurmur.
“Hmm…soitwouldseem,MissSteele.”
Igrin.“Youweren’tparticularlythefirsttimewe…um,didthis.”
“No?”Hesmirks.“When,Irobbedyouofyourvirtue.”
“Idon’tthinkyourobbedme,”Imutterhaughtily—Jeez,I’mnotahelpless
maiden.
“Ithinkmyvirtuewasofferedupprettyfreelyandwillingly.Iwantedyou,
too,andifIremembercorrectly,Iratherenjoyedmyself.”Ismileshylyat
him,bitingmylip.
“SodidIifIrecall,MissSteele.Weaimtoplease,”hedrawlsandhisface
softens,serious.“Anditmeansyou’remine,completely.”Alltraceofhumour
hasvanishedashegazesatme.
“Yes,Iam,”Imurmurbackathim.“Iwantedtoaskyousomething.”
“Goahead.”
“Yourbiologicalfather…doyouknowwhohewas?”Thisthoughthasbeen
buggingme.Hisbrowcreases,andthenheshakeshishead.“Ihavenoidea.
Wasn’tthesavagewhowasherpimp,whichisgood.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
“Somethingmydad…somethingCarricksaidtome.”
IgazeatmyFiftyexpectantly,waiting.Hesmirksatme.
“Sohungryforinformation,Anastasia,”hesighs,shakinghishead.“The
pimpdiscoveredthecrackwhore’sbodyandphoneditintotheauthorities.
Tookhimfourdaystomakethediscoverythough.Heshutthedoorwhenhe
left…leftmewithher…herbody.”Hiseyescloudatthememory.
Iinhalesharply.Poorbabyboy—thehorroristoogrimtocontemplate.
“Policeinterviewedhimlater.HedeniedflatoutIwasanythingtodowith
him,andCarricksaidhelookednothinglikeme.”
“Doyourememberwhathedidlooklike?”
“Anastasia,thisisn’tapartofmylifeIrevisitveryoften.Yes,Iremember
whathelookedlike.I’llneverforgethim.”Christian’sfacedarkensand
hardens,becomingmoreangular,hiseyesfrostingwithanger.“Canwetalk
aboutsomethingelse?”
“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.”
Heshakeshishead.“It’soldnews,Ana.NotsomethingIwanttothink
about.”
“Sowhat’sthissurprise,then?”Ineedtochangethesubjectbeforehegoesall
Fiftyonme.Hisexpressionlightensimmediately.
“Canyoufacegoingoutforsomefreshair?Iwanttoshowyousomething.”
“Ofcourse.”
Imarvelhowquicklyheturns—mercurialasever.Hegrinsatmewithhis
boyish,carefree,I’m-only-twenty-sevensmile,andmyheartlurchesintomy
mouth.Soit’ssomethingclosetohisheart,Icantell.Heswatsmeplayfully
onmybehind.
“Getdressed.Jeanswillbegood.IhopeTaylor’spackedsomeforyou.”
Herisesandpullsonhisboxerbriefs.Oh…Icouldsithereallday,watching
himwanderaroundtheroom.Myinnergoddessagrees,swooningasshe
oglesfromherchaiselongue.
“Up,”hescolds,bossyasever.Igazeathim,grinning.
“Justadmiringtheview.”
Herollshiseyesatme.
Aswedress,Inoticethatwemovewiththesynchronizationoftwopeople
whoknoweachotherwell,eachwatchfulandacutelyawareoftheother,
exchangingtheoccasionalshysmileandsweettouch.Anditdawnsonme
thatthisisjustasnewforhimasitisforme.“Dryyourhair,”Christian
ordersoncewe’redressed.
“Domineeringasever.”Ismirkathim,andheleansdowntokissmyhair.
“That’snevergoingtochange,baby.Idon’twantyousick.”
Irollmyeyesathim,andhismouthtwistsinamusement.
“Mypalmsstilltwitch,youknow,MissSteele.”
“Iamgladtohearit,Mr.Grey.Iwasbeginningtothinkyouwerelosingyour
edge,”
Iretort.
“Icouldeasilydemonstratethatisnotthecase,shouldyousowish.”
Christiandragsalarge,cream,cable-knitsweateroutofhisbaganddrapesit
artfullyoverhisshoulders.
WithhiswhiteT-shirtandjeans,hisartfullyrumpledhair,andnowthis,he
looksasifhe’ssteppedoutofthepagesofahigh-endglossymagazine.
Nooneshouldlookthisgood.AndIdon’tknowifit’sthemomentary
distractionofhissheerperfectlooksortheknowledgethathelovesme,but
histhreatnolongerfillsmewithdread.ThisismyFiftyShades;thisisthe
wayheis.
AsIreachforthehairdryer,atangiblerayofhopeblossoms.Wewillfinda
middleway.Wejusthavetorecognizeeachother’sneedsandaccommodate
them.Icandothat,surely?
Igazeatmyselfinthedressermirror.I’mwearingthepaleblueshirtthat
Taylorboughtandhadpackedforme.Myhairisamess,myfaceflushed,my
lipsswollen—Itouchthem,rememberingChristian’ssearingkisses,andI
can’thelpasmallsmileasIstare.Yes,Ido,hesaid.
“Wherearewegoingexactly?”Iaskaswewaitinthelobbyfortheparking
valet.
Christiantapsthesideofhisnoseandwinksatmeconspiratorially,looking
likehe’sdesperatelytryingtocontainhisglee.Frankly,it’sveryun-Fifty.
Hewaslikethiswhenwewentgliding—perhapsthat’swhatwe’redoing.I
beambackathim.Hestaresdownhisnoseatmeinthatsuperiorwayhehas
withhislopsidedgrin.
Leaningdown,hekissesmegently.
“Doyouhaveanyideahowhappyyoumakemefeel?”hemurmurs.
“Yes…Iknowexactly.Becauseyoudothesameforme.”
ThevaletzoomsupinChristian’scar,wearingaface-splittinggrin.Jeez,
everyoneissohappytoday.
“Greatcar,sir,”hemumblesashehandsoverthekeys.Christianwinksand
giveshimanobscenelylargetip.
Ifrownathim.Honestly.
Aswecruisethroughthetraffic,Christianisdeepinthought.Ayoung
woman’svoicecomesovertheloudspeakers;ithasabeautiful,rich,mellow
timbre,andIlosemyselfinhersad,soulfulvoice.
“Ineedtomakeadetour.Itshouldn’ttakelong,”hesaysabsentmindedly,
distractingmefromthesong.
Oh,why?I’mintriguedtoknowthesurprise.Myinnergoddessisbouncing
aboutlikeafive-year-old.
“Sure,”Imurmur.Somethingisamiss.Suddenly,helooksgrimlydetermined.
Hepullsintotheparkinglotoflargecardealership,stopsthecar,andturnsto
faceme,hisexpressionwary.
“Weneedtogetyouanewcar,”hesays.Igapeathim.
Now?OnaSunday?Whatthehell?AndthisisaSaabdealership.
“NotanAudi?”is,stupidly,theonlythingIcanthinkoftosay,andblesshim,
heactuallyflushes.
Holycow—Christian,embarrassed.Thisisafirst.
“Ithoughtyoumightlikesomethingelse,”hemutters.He’salmostsquirming.
Oh,please…Thisistoovaluableanopportunitynottoteasehim.Ismirk.“A
Saab?”
“Yeah.A9-3.Come.”
“Whatisitwithyouandforeigncars?”
“TheGermansandtheSwedesmakethesafestcarsintheworld,Anastasia.”
Dothey?“Ithoughtyou’dalreadyorderedmeanotherAudiA3?”
Hegivesmeadarklyamusedlook.“Icancancelthat.Come.”Climbing
smoothlyoutofthecar,hestrollsgracefullytomysideandopensmydoor.
“Ioweyouagraduationpresent,”hesayssoftlyandholdshishandoutfor
me.
“Christian,youreallydon’thavetodothis.”
“Yes,Ido.Please.Come.”Histonesayshe’snottobetrifledwith.
Iresignmyselftomyfate.ASaab?DoIwantaSaab?IquiteliketheAudi
SubmissiveSpecial.Itwasverynifty.
Ofcourse,nowit’sunderatonofwhitepaint…Ishudder.Andshe’sstillout
there.
ItakeChristian’shand,andwewanderintotheshowroom.
TroyTurniansky,thesalesman,isalloverFiftylikeacheapsuit.Hecansmell
asale.
Weirdlyhisaccentsoundsmid-Atlantic,maybeBritish?It’sdifficulttotell.
“ASaab,sir?Pre-owned?”Herubshishandswithglee.
“New.”Christian’slipssetintoahardline.
New!
“Didyouhaveamodelinmind,sir?”Andhe’ssmarmy,too.
“9-32.0TSportSedan.”
“Anexcellentchoice,sir.”
“Whatcolour,Anastasia?”Christianinclineshishead.
“Er…black?”Ishrug.“Youreallydon’tneedtodothis.”
Hefrowns.“Black’snoteasilyseenatnight.”
Oh,forheaven’ssake.Iresistthetemptationtorollmyeyes.“Youhavea
blackcar.”
Hescowlsatme.
“Brightcanaryyellowthen.”Ishrug.
Christianmakesaface—canaryyellowisobviouslynothisthing.
“Whatcolourdoyouwantmetohave?”Iaskasifhe’sasmallchild,which
heisinmanyways.Thethoughtisunwelcome—sadandsoberingatonce.
“Silverorwhite.”
“Silver,then.YouknowI’lltaketheAudi,”Iadd,chastenedbymythoughts.
Troypales,sensinghe’slosingasale.“Perhapsyou’dliketheconvertible,
ma’am?”heasks,clappinghishandswithenthusiasm.
Mysubconsciousiscringingindisgust,mortifiedbythewholebuying-a-car
business,butmyinnergoddesstackleshertothefloor.Convertible?Drool!
Christianfrownsandpeersatme.“Convertible?”heasks,raisinganeyebrow.
Iflush.It’slikehehasadirecthotlinetomyinnergoddess,whichofcourse,
hehas.It’smostinconvenientattimes.Istaredownatmyhands.
ChristianturnstoTroy.“Whatarethesafetystatsontheconvertible?”
Troy,sensingChristian’svulnerability,headsinforthekill,reelingoffall
mannerofstatistics.
Ofcourse,Christianwantsmesafe.It’sareligionwithhim,andlikethe
zealotheis,helistensintentlytoTroy’swell-honedpatter.Fiftyreallydoes
care.
Yes.Ido.Irememberhiswhispered,chokedwordsfromthismorning,anda
meltingglowspreadslikewarmhoneythroughmyveins.Thisman—God’s
gifttowomen—lovesme.Ifindmyselfgrinninggoofilyathim,andwhenhe
glancesdownatme,he’samusedyetpuzzledbymyexpression.Ijustwantto
hugmyself,Iamsohappy.
“Whateveryou’rehighon,I’dlikesome,MissSteele,”hemurmursasTroy
headsofftohiscomputer.
“I’mhighonyou,Mr.Grey.”
“Really?Wellyoucertainlylookintoxicated.”Hekissesmebriefly.“And
thankyouforacceptingthecar.Thatwaseasierthanlasttime.”
“Well,it’snotanAudiA3.”
Hesmirks.“That’snotthecarforyou.”
“Ilikedit.”
“Sir,the9-3?I’velocatedoneatourBeverlyHillsdealership.Wecanhaveit
hereforyouinacoupleofdays.”Troyglowswithtriumph.
“Topoftherange?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Excellent.”Christianproduceshiscreditcard,orisitTaylor’s?Thethought
isunnerving.IwonderhowTayloris,andifhe’slocatedLeilainthe
apartment.Irubmyforehead.
Yes,there’sallofChristian’sbaggage,too.
“Ifyou’llcomethisway,Mr.”—Troyglancesatthenameonthecard
—“Grey.”
Christianopensmydoor,andIclimbbackintothepassengerseat.
“Thankyou,”Isaywhenhe’sseatedbesideme.
Hesmiles.
“You’remostwelcome,Anastasia.”
ThemusicstartsagainasChristianstartstheengine.
“Who’sthis?”Iask.
“EvaCassidy.”
“Shehasalovelyvoice.”
“Shedoes,shedid.”
“Oh.”
“Shediedyoung.”
“Oh.”
“Areyouhungry?Youdidn’tfinishallyourbreakfast.”Heglancesquicklyat
me,disapprovaloutlinedonhisface.
Uh-oh.“Yes.”
“Lunchfirst,then.”
ChristiandrivestowardthewaterfrontthenheadsnorthalongtheAlaskan
Way.It’sanotherbeautifuldayinSeattle.It’sbeenuncharacteristicallyfine
forthelastfewweeks,Imuse.
ChristianlookshappyandrelaxedaswesitbacklisteningtoEvaCassidy’s
sweet,soulfulvoiceandcruisedownthehighway.HaveIeverfeltthis
comfortableinhiscompanybefore?Idon’tknow.
Iamlessnervousofhismoods,confidentthathewon’tpunishme,andhe
seemsmorecomfortablewithme,too.Heturnsleft,followingthecoastroad,
andeventuallypullsupinaparkinglotoppositeavastmarina.
“We’lleathere.I’llopenyourdoor,”hesaysinsuchawaythatIknowit’s
notwisetomove,andIwatchhimmovearoundthecar.Willthiseverget
old?
Westrollarminarmtothewaterfrontwherethemarinastretchesoutinfront
ofus.
“Somanyboats,”Imurmurinwonder.Therearehundredsoftheminall
shapesandsizes,bobbingupanddownonthecalm,stillwatersofthemarina.
OutontheSoundtherearedozensofsailsinthewind,weavingtoandfro,
enjoyingthefineweather.It’sawholesome,outdoorsysight.Thewindhas
pickedupalittle,soIpullmyjacketaroundme.
“Cold?”heasksandpullsmetightlyagainsthim.
“No,justadmiringtheview.”
“Icouldstareatitallday.Come,thisway.”
Christianleadsmeintoalargeseafrontbarandmakeshiswaytothecounter.
ThedécorismoreNewEnglandthanWestCoast—white-limedwalls,pale
bluefurnishings,andboatingparaphernaliahangingeverywhere.It’sabright,
cheeryplace.
“Mr.Grey!”thebarmangreetsChristianwarmly.“WhatcanIgetyouthis
afternoon?”
“Dante,goodafternoon.”Christiangrinsaswebothslipontobarstools.“This
lovelyladyisAnastasiaSteele.”
“WelcometoSP’sPlace.”Dantegivesmeafriendlysmile.He’sblackand
beautiful,hisdarkeyesassessingmeandnotfindingmewanting,itseems.
Onelargediamondstudwinksatmefromhisear.Ilikehimimmediately.
“Whatwouldyouliketodrink,Anastasia?”
IglanceatChristian,whoregardsmeexpectantly.Oh,he’sgoingtoletme
choose.
“Please,callmeAna,andI’llhavewhateverChristian’sdrinking.”Ismile
shylyatDante.Fifty’ssomuchbetteratwinethanIam.
“I’mgoingtohaveabeer.ThisistheonlybarinSeattlewhereyoucanget
Adnam’sExplorer.”
“Abeer?”
“Yes.”Hegrinsatme.“TwoExplorers,please,Dante.”
Dantenodsandsetsupthebeersonthebar.
“Theydoadeliciousseafoodchowderhere,”Christiansays.
He’saskingme.
“Chowderandbeersoundsgreat.”Ismileathim.
“Twochowders?”Danteasks.
“Please.”Christiangrinsathim.
Wetalkthroughourmeal,asweneverhavebefore.Christianisrelaxedand
calm—helooksyoung,happy,andanimateddespiteallthattranspired
yesterday.HerecountsthehistoryofGreyEnterprisesHoldings,andthemore
hereveals,themoreIsensehispassionforfixingproblemcompanies,his
hopesforthetechnologyhe’sdeveloping,andhisdreamsofmakinglandin
thethirdworldmoreproductive.Ilistenenraptured.He’sfunny,clever,
philanthropic,andbeautiful,andhelovesme.
Inturn,heplaguesmewithquestionsaboutRayandmymom,aboutgrowing
upinthelushforestsofMontesano,andmybriefstintsinTexasandVegas.
Hedemandstoknowmyfavouritebooksandfilms,andI’msurprisedbyhow
muchwehaveincommon.
Aswetalk,itstrikesmethathe’sturnedfromHardy’sAlectoAngel,
debasementtohighidealinsuchashortspaceoftime.
It’saftertwowhenwefinishourmeal.ChristiansettlesthetabwithDante,
whowishesusafondfarewell.
“Thisisagreatplace.Thankyouforlunch,”IsayasChristiantakesmyhand
andweleavethebar.
“We’llcomeagain,”hesays,andwestrollalongthewaterfront.“Iwantedto
showyousomething.”
“Iknow…andIcan’twaittoseeit,whateveritis.”
Wewanderhandinhandalongthemarina.Itissuchapleasantafternoon.
PeopleareoutenjoyingtheirSunday—walkingdogs,admiringtheboats,
watchingtheirkidsrunalongthepromenade.
Asweheaddownthemarina,theboatsaregettingprogressivelylarger.
Christianleadsmeontothedockandstopsinfrontofahugecatamaran.
“Ithoughtwe’dgosailingthisafternoon.Thisismyboat.”
Holycow.Itmustbeatleastforty,maybefiftyfeet.Twosleekwhitehulls,a
deck,aroomycabin,andtoweringoverthemaverytallmast.Iknownothing
aboutboats,butIcantellthisoneisspecial.
“Wow…,”Imurmurinwonder.
“Builtbymycompany,”hesaysproudlyandmyheartswells.“She’sbeen
designedfromthegroundupbytheverybestnavalarchitectsintheworld
andconstructedhereinSeattleatmyyard.Shehashybridelectricdrives,
asymmetricdaggerboards,asquare-toppedmainsail—”
“Okay…you’velostme,Christian.”
Hegrins.“She’sagreatboat.”
“Shelooksmightyfine,Mr.Grey.”
“Thatshedoes,MissSteele.”
“What’shername?”
HepullsmetothesidesoIcanseehername:TheGrace.I’msurprised.“You
namedherafteryourmom?”
“Yes.”Hecockshisheadtooneside,quizzical.“Whydoyoufindthat
strange?”
Ishrug.Iamsurprised—healwaysseemsambivalentinherpresence.
“Iadoremymom,Anastasia.Whywouldn’tInameaboatafterher?”
Iflush.“No,it’snotthat…it’sjust…”Shit,howcanIputthisintowords?
“Anastasia,GraceTrevelyansavedmylife.Iowehereverything.”
Igazeathim,andletthereverenceinhissoftlyspokenadmissionwashover
me.It’sobvioustome,forthefirsttime,thatheloveshismom.Whythenhis
strangestrainedambivalencetowardher?
“Doyouwanttocomeaboard?”heasks,hiseyesbright,excited.
“Yes,please.”Ismile.
Helooksdelightedanddelightfulinoneyummyscrumptiouspackage.
Graspingmyhand,hestridesupthesmallgangplankandleadsmeaboardso
thatwearestandingondeckbeneatharigidcanopy.
Toonesidethere’satableandaU-shapedbanquettecoveredinpaleblue
leather,whichmustseatatleasteightpeople.Iglancethroughthesliding
doorstotheinteriorofthecabinandjump,startledwhenIspysomeonethere.
Thetallblondmanopenstheslidingdoorsandemerges—alltanned,curly-
hairedandbrown-eyed—wearingafadedpinkshort-sleevedpoloshirt,
shorts,anddeckshoes.Hemustbeinhisearlythirties.
“Mac.”Christianbeams.
“Mr.Grey!Welcomeback.”Theyshakehands.
“Anastasia,thisisLiamMcConnell.Liam,mygirlfriend,AnastasiaSteele.”
Girlfriend!Myinnergoddessperformsaquickarabesque.She’sstillgrinning
overtheconvertible.Ihavetogetusedtothis—it’snotthefirsttimehe’ssaid
it,buthearinghimsayitisstillathrill.
“Howdoyoudo?”LiamandIshakehands.
“CallmeMac,”hesayswarmly,andIcan’tplacehisaccent.“Welcome
aboard,MissSteele.”
“Ana,please,”Imutter,flushing.Hehasdeepbrowneyes.
“How’ssheshapingup,Mac?”Christianinterjectsquickly,andforamoment,
Ithinkhe’stalkingaboutme.
“She’sreadytorockandroll,sir,”Macbeams.Oh,theboat,TheGrace.Silly
me.
“Let’sgetunderway,then.”
“Yougoingtotakeherout?”
“Yep.”ChristianflashesMacaquickwickedgrin.“Quicktour,Anastasia?”
“Yes,please.”
Ifollowhiminsidethecabin.AnL-shapedcreamleathersofaisdirectlyin
frontofus,andaboveit,amassivecurvedwindowoffersapanoramicview
ofthemarina.Totheleftisthekitchenarea—verywellappointed,allpale
wood.
“Thisisthemainsaloon.Galleybeside,”Christiansays,wavinghishandin
thedirectionofthekitchen.
Hetakesmyhandandleadsmethroughthemaincabin.It’ssurprisingly
spacious.Theflooristhesamepalewood.Itlooksmodernandsleekandhas
alight,airyfeel,butit’sallveryfunctional,asifhedoesn’tspendmuchtime
here.
“Bathroomsoneitherside.”Christianpointstotwodoors,thenopensthe
small,oddlyshapeddoordirectlyinfrontofusandstepsin.We’reinaplush
bedroom.Oh…
Ithasaking-sizecabinbedandisallpalebluelinenandpalewoodlikehis
bedroomatEscala.Christianobviouslychoosesathemeandstickstoit.
“Thisisthemastercabin.”Hegazesdownatme,greyeyesglowing.“You’re
thefirstgirlinhere,apartfromfamily,”hesmirks.“Theydon’tcount.”
Iflushunderhisheatedstare,andmypulsequickens.Really?Anotherfirst.
Hepullsmeintohisarms,hisfingerstanglinginmyhair,andkissesme,long
andhard.We’rebothbreathlesswhenhepullsaway.
“Mighthavetochristenthisbed,”hewhispersagainstmymouth.
Oh,atsea!
“Butnotrightnow.Come,Macwillbecastingoff.”Iignorethestabof
disappointmentashetakesmyhandandleadsmebackthroughthesaloon.
Heindicatesanotherdoor.
“Officeinthere,andatthefronthere,twomorecabins.”
“Sohowmanycansleeponboard?”
“It’sasix-berthcat.I’veonlyeverhadthefamilyonboard,though.Iliketo
sailalone.
Butnotwhenyou’rehere.Ineedtokeepaneyeonyou.”
Hedelvesintoachestandpullsoutabrightredlifejacket.
“Here.”Puttingitovermyhead,hetightensallthestraps,afaintsmile
playingonhislips.“Youlovestrappingmein,don’tyou?”
“Inanyform,”hesays,awickedgrinplayingonhislips.
“Youareapervert.”
“Iknow.”Heraiseshiseyebrowsandhisgrinbroadens.
“Mypervert,”Iwhisper.
“Yes,yours.”
Oncesecured,hegrabsthesidesofthejacketandkissesme.“Always,”he
breathes,thenreleasesmebeforeIhaveachancetorespond.
Always!Holyshit.
“Come.”Hegrabsmyhandandleadsmeoutside,upsomesteps,andontothe
upperdecktoasmallcockpitthathousesabigsteeringwheelandaraised
seat.Attheprowoftheboat,Macisdoingsomethingwithropes.
“Isthiswhereyoulearnedallyourropetricks?”IaskChristianinnocently.
“Clovehitcheshavecomeinhandy,”hesays,lookingatmeappraisingly.
“MissSteele,yousoundcurious.Ilikeyoucurious,baby.I’dbemorethan
happytodemonstratewhatIcandowitharope.”Hesmirksatme,andIgaze
backimpassivelyasifhe’supsetme.Hisfacefalls.
“Gotcha.”Igrin.
Hismouthtwistsandhenarrowshiseyes.“Imayhavetodealwithyoulater,
butrightnow,I’vegottodrivemyboat.”Hesitsatthecontrols,pressesa
button,andtheenginesroarintolife.
Maccomesscootingbackdownthesideoftheboat,grinningatme,and
jumpsdowntothedeckbelowwherehestartstounfastenarope.Maybehe
knowssomeropetricks,too.TheideapopsunwelcomeintomyheadandI
flush.
Mysubconsciousglaresatme.MentallyIshrugatherandglanceatChristian
—IblameFifty.HepicksupthereceiverandradiosthecoastguardasMac
callsupthatwearesettogo.
Oncemore,IamdazzledbyChristian’sexpertise.He’ssocompetent.Isthere
nothingthatthismancan’tdo?ThenIrememberhisearnestattempttochop
anddiceapepperinmyapartmentonFriday.Thethoughtmakesmesmile.
Slowly,ChristianeasesTheGraceoutofherberthandtowardthemarina
entrance.Behindus,asmallcrowdhasgatheredonthedocksidetowatchour
departure.Smallchildrenarewaving,andIwaveback.
Christianglancesoverhisshoulder,thenpullsmebetweenhislegsandpoints
outvariousdialsandgadgetsinthecockpit.“Grabthewheel,”heorders,
bossyasever,butIdoasI’mtold.
“Aye,aye,captain!”Igiggle.
Placinghishandssnuglyovermine,hecontinuestosteerourcourseoutof
themarina,andwithinafewminutes,weareoutontheopensea,slapintothe
coldbluewatersofPugetSound.Awayfromtheshelterofthemarina’s
protectivewall,thewindisstronger,andtheseapitchesandrollsbeneathus.
Ican’thelpbutgrin,feelingChristian’sexcitement—thisissuchfun.We
makealargecurveuntilweareheadingwesttowardtheOlympicPeninsula,
thewindbehindus.
“Sailtime,”Christiansays,excited.“Here—youtakeher.Keepheronthis
course.”
What?Hegrins,reactingtothehorrorinmyface.
“Baby,it’sreallyeasy.Holdthewheelandkeepyoureyeonthehorizonover
thebow.
You’lldogreat;youalwaysdo.Whenthesailsgoup,you’llfeelthedrag.
Justholdhersteady.I’llsignallikethis”—hemakesaslashingmotionacross
histhroat—“andyoucancuttheengines.Thisbuttonhere.”Hepointstoa
largeblackbutton.“Understand?”
“Yes.”Inodfrantically,feelingpanicky.Jeez—Ihadn’texpectedtodo
anything!
Hekissesmequickly,thenhestepsoffhiscaptain’schairandboundsupto
thefrontoftheboattojoinMacwherehestartsunfurlingsails,untyingropes,
andoperatingwinchesandpulleys.Theyworkwelltogetherinateam,
shoutingvariousnauticaltermstoeachother,andit’swarmingtoseeFifty
interactingwithsomeoneelseinsuchacarefreemanner.PerhapsMacis
Fifty’sfriend.Hedoesn’tseemtohavemany,asfarasIcantell,butthen,I
don’thavemanyeither.Well,nothereinSeattle.TheonlyfriendIhaveison
vacationsunningherselfinSt.JamesonthewestcoastofBarbados.
IhaveasuddenpangforKate.ImissmyroommatemorethanIthoughtI
wouldwhensheleft.Ihopeshechangeshermindandcomeshomewithher
brotherEthan,ratherthanprolongherstaywithChristian’sbrotherElliot.
ChristianandMachoistthemainsail.Itfillsandbillowsoutasthewind
seizesithungrily,andtheboatlurchessuddenly,zippingforward.Ifeelit
throughthewheel.Whoa!
Theygettoworkontheheadsail,andIwatchfascinatedasitfliesupthe
mast.Thewindcatchesit,stretchingittaut.
“Holdhersteady,baby,andcuttheengines!”Christiancriesouttomeover
thewind,motioningmetoswitchofftheengines.Icanonlyjusthearhis
voice,butInodenthusiastically,gazingatthemanIlove,allwindswept,
exhilarated,andbracinghimselfagainstthepitchandyawoftheboat.
Ipressthebutton,theroaroftheenginesceases,andTheGracesoarstoward
theOlympicPeninsula,skimmingacrossthewaterasifshe’sflying.Iwantto
yellandscreamandcheer—thishastobeoneofthemostexhilarating
experiencesofmylife—exceptperhapstheglider,andmaybetheRedRoom
ofPain.
Holycow,thisboatcanmove!Istandfirm,graspingthewheel,fightingthe
rudder,andChristianisbehindmeoncemore,hishandsonmine.
“Whatdoyouthink?”heshoutsabovethesoundofthewindandthesea.
“Christian!Thisisfantastic.”
Hebeams,grinningfromeartoear.“Youwaituntilthespinney’sup.”He
pointswithhischintowardMac,whoisunfurlingthespinnaker—asailthat’s
adark,richred.Itremindsmeofthewallsintheplayroom.
“Interestingcolour,”Ishout.
Hegivesmeawolfishgrinandwinks.Oh,it’sdeliberate.
Thespinneyballoonsout—alarge,oddellipticalshape—puttingTheGrace
inoverdrive.Findingherhead,shespeedsovertheSound.
“Asymmetricalsail.Forspeed.”Christiananswersmyunaskedquestion.
“It’samazing.”Icanthinkofnothingbettertosay.Ihavethemostridiculous
grinonmyfaceaswewhipthroughthewater,headingforthemajestyofthe
OlympicMountainsandBainbridgeIsland.Glancingback,IseeSeattle
shrinkingbehindus,MountRainierinthefardistance.
IhadnotreallyappreciatedhowbeautifulandruggedSeattle’ssurrounding
landscapeis—verdant,lush,andtemperate,tallevergreensandclifffaces
juttingouthereandthere.
Ithasawildbutserenebeautyonthisglorioussunnyafternoonthattakesmy
breathaway.
Thestillnessisstunningcomparedtoourspeedaswewhipacrossthewater.
“Howfastarewegoing?”
“She’sdoing15knots.”
“Ihavenoideawhatthatmeans.”
“It’sabout17milesanhour.”
“Isthatall?Itfeelsmuchfaster.”
Hesqueezesmyhands,smiling.“Youlooklovely,Anastasia.It’sgoodtosee
somecolourinyourcheeks…andnotfromblushing.Youlooklikeyoudoin
José’sphotos.”
Iturnandkisshim.
“Youknowhowtoshowagirlagoodtime,Mr.Grey.”
“Weaimtoplease,MissSteele.”Hescoopsmyhairoutofthewayandkisses
thebackofmyneck,sendingdelicioustinglesdownmyspine.“Ilikeseeing
youhappy,”hemurmursandtightenshisarmsaroundme.
Igazeoutoverthewidebluewater,wonderingwhatIcouldpossiblyhave
doneinthepasttohavefortunesmileanddeliverthisbeautifulmantome.
Yes,you’realuckybitch,mysubconscioussnaps.Butyouhaveyourworkcut
outwithhim.He’snotgoingtowantthisvanillacrapforever…you’regoing
tohavetocompromise.Iglarementallyathersnarky,insolentfaceandrest
myheadagainstChristian’schest.ButdeepdownIknowmysubconsciousis
right,butIbanishthethoughts.Idon’twanttospoilmyday.
Anhourlater,weareanchoredinasmall,secludedcoveoffBainbridge
Island.Machasgoneashoreintheinflatable—forwhat,Idon’tknow—butI
havemysuspicionsbecauseassoonasMacstartstheoutboardengine,
Christiangrabsmyhandandpracticallydragsmeintohiscabin,amanwitha
mission.
Nowhestandsbeforeme,exudinghisintoxicatingsensualityashisdeft
fingersmakequickworkofthestrapsonmylifejacket.Hetossesittoone
sideandgazesintentlydownatme,eyesdark,dilated.
I’malreadylostandhe’sbarelytouchedme.Heraiseshishandtomyface,
andhisfingersmovedownmychin,thecolumnofmythroat,mysternum,
searingmewithhistouch,tothefirstbuttonofmyblueblouse.
“Iwanttoseeyou,”hebreathesanddexterouslyundoesthebutton.Bending,
heplantsasoftkissonmypartedlips.Iampantingandeager,arousedbythe
potentcombinationofhiscaptivatingbeauty,hisrawsexualityintheconfines
ofthiscabin,andthegentleswayoftheboat.Hestandsback.
“Stripforme,”hewhispers,eyesburning.
Ohmy.I’monlytoohappytocomply.Nottakingmyeyesoffhis,Islowly
undoeachbutton,savouringhisscorchinggaze.Oh,thisisheadystuff.Ican
seehisdesire—it’sevidentonhisface…andelsewhere.
Iletmyshirtfalltothefloorandreachforthebuttononmyjeans.
“Stop,”heorders.“Sit.”
Isitdownontheedgeofthebed,andinonefluidmovementhe’sonhis
kneesinfrontofme,undoingthelacesoffirstoneandthentheothersneaker,
pullingeachoff,followedbymysocks.Hepicksupmyleftfootandraising
it,plantsasoftkissonthepadofmybigtoe,thengrazeshisteethagainstit.
“Ah!”ImoanasIfeeltheeffectinmygroin.Hestandsinonesmoothmove,
holdshishandouttome,andpullsmeupoffthebed.
“Continue,”hesaysandstandsbacktowatchme.
IeasethezipperofmyjeansdownandhookmythumbsinthewaistbandasI
sashaythenslidethedenimdownmylegs.Asoftsmileplaysonhislips,but
hiseyesremaindark.
AndIdon’tknowifit’sbecausehemadelovetomethismorning,andImean
reallymadelovetome,gently,sweetly,orifitwashisimpassioned
declaration—yes…Ido—
butIdon’tfeelembarrassedatall.Iwanttobesexyforthisman.Hedeserves
sexy—hemakesmefeelsexy.
Okay,it’snewtome,butI’mlearningunderhisexperttutelage.Andthen
again,somuchisnewtohim,too.Itbalancestheseesawbetweenus,alittle,
Ithink.
Iamwearingsomeofmynewunderwear—awhitelacythongandmatching
bra—adesignerbrandwithapricetagtomatch.Istepoutofmyjeansand
standthereforhiminthelingeriehe’spaidfor,butInolongerfeelcheap.I
feelhis.
ReachingbehindIunhookmybra,slidingthestrapsdownmyarms,anddrop
itontopofmyblouse.Slowly,Islipmypantiesoff,lettingthemfalltomy
ankles,andstepoutofthem,surprisedbymygrace.
Standingbeforehim,Iamnakedandunashamed,andIknowit’sbecausehe
lovesme.Inolongerhavetohide.Hesaysnothing,justgazesatme.AllIsee
ishisdesire,hisadorationeven,andsomethingelse,thedepthofhisneed—
thedepthofhisloveforme.
Hereachesdown,liftsthehemofhiscream-coloredsweater,andpullsitover
hishead,followedbyhisT-shirt,revealinghischest,nevertakinghisbold
greyeyesoffmine.Hisshoesandsocksfollowbeforehegraspsthebuttonof
hisjeans.
Reachingover,Iwhisper,“Letme.”
Hislipspursebrieflyintoanoohshape,andhesmiles.“Bemyguest.”
Isteptowardhim,slipmyfearlessfingersinsidethewaistbandofhisjeans,
andtugsohe’sforcedtotakeastepclosertome.Hegaspsinvoluntarilyat
myunexpectedaudacitythensmilesdownatme.Iundothebutton,butbefore
IunziphimIletmyfingerswander,tracinghiserectionthroughthesoft
denim.Heflexeshishipsintomypalmandcloseshiseyesbriefly,relishing
mytouch.
“You’regettingsobold,Ana,sobrave,”hewhispersandclaspsmyfacewith
bothhands,bendingtokissmedeeply.
Iputmyhandsonhiships—halfonhiscoolskinandhalfonthelow-slung
waistbandofhisjeans.“Soareyou,”Imurmuragainsthislipsasmythumbs
rubslowcirclesonhisskin,andhesmiles.
“Gettingthere.”
Imovemyhandstothefrontofhisjeansandpulldownthezipper.My
intrepidfingersmovethroughhispubichairtohiserection,andIgrasphim
tightly.
Hemakesalowsoundinhisthroat,hissweetbreathwashingoverme,andhe
kissesmeagain,lovingly.Asmyhandmovesoverhim,aroundhim,stroking
him,squeezinghimtightly,heputshisarmsaroundme,hisrighthandflat
againstthemiddleofmybackandhisfingersspread.Hislefthandisinmy
hair,holdingmetohismouth.
“Oh,Iwantyousomuch,baby,”hebreathes,andstepsbacksuddenlyto
removehisjeansandboxersinoneswift,agilemove.Heisafine,finesight
inoroutofclothes,everysingleinchofhim.
Heisperfect.Hisbeautydesecratedonlybyhisscars,Ithinksadly.Andthey
runsomuchdeeperthanhisskin.
“What’swrong,Ana?”hemurmursandgentlystrokesmycheekwithhis
knuckles.
“Nothing.Loveme,now.”
Hepullsmeintohisarms,kissingme,twistinghishandsintomyhair.Our
tonguesentwined,hewalksmebackwardtothebedandgentlylowersme
ontoit,followingmedownsothathe’slyingbymyside.
Herunshisnosealongmyjawlineasmyhandsmovetohishair.
“Doyouhaveanyideahowexquisiteyourscentis,Ana?It’sirresistible.”
Hiswordsdowhattheyalwaysdo—flamemyblood,quickenmypulse—and
hetrailshisnosedownmythroat,acrossmybreasts,kissingmereverentially
ashedoes.
“Youaresobeautiful,”hemurmurs,ashetakesoneofmynipplesinhis
mouthandsoftlysuckles.
Imoanasmybodybowsoffthebed.
“Letmehearyou,baby.”
Hishandtrailsdowntomywaist,andIgloryinthefeelofhistouch,skinto
skin—hishungrymouthatmybreastsandhisskilledlongfingerscaressing
andstrokingme,cherishingme.Movingovermyhips,overmybehind,and
downmylegtomyknee,andallthistimehe’skissingandsuckingmy
breasts—ohmy.
Graspingmyknee,hesuddenlyhitchesmylegup,curlingitoverhiships,
makingmegasp,andIfeelratherthanseehisrespondinggrinagainstmy
skin.HerollsoversothatIamastridehimandhandsmeafoilpacket.
Ishiftback,takinghiminmyhands,andIjustcan’tresisthiminallhisglory.
Ibendandkisshim,takinghiminmymouth,swirlingmytonguearoundhim,
thensuckinghard.
Hegroansandflexeshishipssothathe’sdeeperinmymouth.
Mmm…hetastesgood.Iwanthiminsideme.Isitupandgazeathim;he’s
breathless,mouthopen,watchingmeintently.
HurriedlyItearopenthecondomandunrollitoverhim.Heholdsouthis
handsforme.Itakeoneandwithmyotherhand,positionmyselfoverhim,
thenslowlyclaimhimasmine.
Hegroanslowinhisthroat,closinghiseyes.
Thefeelofhiminme…stretching…fillingme—Imoansoftly—it’sdivine.
Heplaceshishandsonmyhipsandmovesmeup,down,andpushesintome.
Oh…it’ssogood.
“Oh,baby,”hewhispers,andsuddenlyhesitsupsowe’renosetonose,and
thesensationisextraordinary—sofull.Igasp,grabbinghisupperarmsashe
claspsmyheadinhishandsandgazesintomyeyes—hisintenseandgrey,
burningwithdesire.
“Oh,Ana.Whatyoumakemefeel,”hemurmursandkissesmepassionately
withferventardour.Ikisshimback,dizzywiththedeliciousfeelingofhim
burieddeepinsideme.
“Oh,Iloveyou,”Imurmur.Hegroansasifpainedtohearmywhispered
wordsandrollsover,takingmewithhimwithoutbreakingourprecious
contact,sothatI’mlyingbeneathhim.Iwrapmylegsaroundhiswaist.
Hestaresdownatmewithadoringwonder,andIamsureImirrorhis
expressionasIreachuptocaresshisbeautifulface.Veryslowly,hestartsto
move,closinghiseyesashedoesandmoaningsoftly.
Thegentleswayoftheboatandthepeaceandquiettranquillityofthecabin
arebrokenonlybyourmingledbreathsashemovesslowlyinandoutofme,
socontrolledandsogood—it’sheavenly.Heputshisarmovermyhead,his
handonmyhair,andhecaressesmyfacewiththeotherashebendstokiss
me.
I’mcocoonedbyhim,ashelovesme,slowlymovinginandout,savouring
me.Itouchhim—stickingtotheboundaries—hisarms,hishair,hislower
back,hisbeautifulbehind—
andmybreathingacceleratesashissteadyrhythmpushesmehigherand
higher.He’skissingmymouth,mychin,myjaw,thennibblingmyear.Ican
hearhisstaccatobreathswitheachgentlethrustofhisbody.
Mybodystartstoquiver.Oh…ThisfeelingthatInowknowsowell…Iam
close…
Oh…
“That’sright,baby…giveitupforme…Please…Ana,”hemurmursand
hiswordsaremyundoing.
“Christian,”Icallout,andhegroansaswebothcometogether.
“Macwillbebacksoon,”hemurmurs.
“Hmm.”Myeyesflickeropentomeethissoftgreygaze.Lord,hiseyesare
anamazingcolour—especiallyhere,outonthesea—reflectingthelight
bouncingoffthewaterthroughthesmallportholesintothecabin.
“AsmuchasI’dliketolieherewithyouallafternoon,he’llneedahandwith
thedinghy.”Leaningover,Christiankissesmetenderly.“Ana,youlookso
beautifulrightnow,allmussedupandsexy.Makesmewantyoumore.”He
smilesandrisesfromthebed.Ilayonmyfrontadmiringtheview.
“Youain’tsobadyourself,captain.”Ismackmylipsinadmirationandhe
grins.
Iwatchhimmovegracefullyaboutthecabinashedresses.Hereallyis
divinelybeautiful,andwhat’smore,he’sjustmadesuchsweetlovetome
again.Icanhardlybelievemygoodfortune.Ican’tquitebelievethatthisman
ismine.Hesitsdownbesidemetoputonhisshoes.
“Captain,eh?”hesaysdryly.“Well,Iammasterofthisvessel.”
Icockmyheadtooneside.“Youaremasterofmyheart,Mr.Grey.”Andmy
body…
andmysoul.
Heshakeshisheadincredulouslyandbendstokissme.“I’llbeondeck.
There’sashowerinthebathroomifyouwantone.Doyouneedanything?A
drink?”heaskssolicitously,andallIcandoisgrinathim.Isthisthesame
man?IsthisthesameFifty?
“What?”hesays,reactingtomystupidgrin.
“You.”
“Whataboutme?”
“WhoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithChristian?”
Helipstwitchwithasadsmile.
“He’snotveryfaraway,baby,”hesayssoftly,andthere’satouchof
melancholyinhisvoicethatmakesmeinstantlyregretaskingthequestion.
Butheshakesitoff.“You’llseehimsoonenough”—hesmirksatme
—“especiallyifyoudon’tgetup.”Reachingover,hesmacksmehardonmy
behindsoIyelpandlaughatthesametime.
“Youhadmeworried.”
“DidI,now?”Christian’sbrowcreases.“Youdogiveoffsomemixedsignals,
Anastasia.How’samansupposedtokeepup?”Heleansdownandkissesme
again.“Laters,baby,”headds,andwithadazzlingsmile,hegetsupand
leavesmetomyscatteredthoughts.
WhenIsurfaceondeck,Macisbackonboard,buthedisappearsontothe
upperdeckasIopenthesaloondoors.ChristianisonhisBlackberry.Talking
towhom?Iwonder.Hewandersoverandpullsmeclose,kissingmyhair.
“Greatnews…good.Yeah…Really?Thefireescapestairwell?…Isee…
Yes,tonight.”
Hehitstheendbutton,andthesoundoftheenginesfiringupstartlesme.Mac
mustbeinthecockpitabove.
“Timetoheadback,”Christiansays,kissingmeoncemoreashestrapsme
intomylifejacket.
Thesunislowintheskybehindusaswemakeourwaybacktothemarina,
andIreflectonawonderfulafternoon.UnderChristian’scareful,patient
tuition,Ihavenowstowedamainsail,aheadsail,andaspinnakerandlearned
totieareefknot,clovehitch,andsheep-shank.Hislipsweretwitching
throughoutthelesson.
“Imaytieyouuponeday,”Imuttercrabbily.
Hismouthtwistswithhumour.“You’llhavetocatchmefirst,MissSteele.”
Hiswordsbringtomindhimchasingmeroundtheapartment,thethrill,then
thehideousaftermath.Ifrownandshudder.Afterthat,Ilefthim.
WouldIleavehimagainnowthathe’sadmittedhelovesme?Igazeupinto
hiscleargreyeyes.CouldIeverleavehimagain—nomatterwhathedidto
me?CouldIbetrayhimlikethat?No.Idon’tthinkIcould.
He’sgivenmeamorethoroughtourofthisbeautifulboat,explainingallthe
innovativedesignsandtechniques,andthehigh-qualitymaterialsusedto
buildit.IremembertheinterviewwhenIfirstmethim.Ipickedupthenon
hispassionforships.Ithoughthislovewasonlyfortheocean-going
freightershiscompanybuilds—notforsuper-sexy,sleekcatamarans,too.
And,ofcourse,he’smadesweet,unhurriedlovetome.Ishakemyhead,
rememberingmybodybowedandwantingbeneathhisexperthands.Heisan
exceptionallover,I’msure—though,ofcourse,Ihavenocomparison.But
Katewouldhaveravedmoreifitwasalwayslikethis;it’snotlikehertohold
backondetails.
Buthowlongwillthisbeenoughforhim?Ijustdon’tknow,andthethought
isunnerving.
Nowhesits,andIstandinthesafecircleofhisarmsforhours,itseems,in
comfortable,companionablesilenceasTheGraceglidescloserandcloserto
Seattle.Ihavethewheel,Christianadvisingonadjustmentseverysooften.
“Thereispoetryinsailingasoldastheworld,”Hemurmursinmyear.
“Thatsoundslikeaquote.”
Isensehisgrin.“Itis.AntoinedeSaint-Exupéry.”
“Oh…IadoreTheLittlePrince.”
“Metoo.”
ItisearlyeveningasChristian,hishandsstillonmine,steersusintothe
marina.Therearelightswinkingfromtheboats,reflectingoffthedarkwater,
butitisstilllight—abalmy,brightevening,anovertureforwhatissuretobe
aspectacularsunset.
AcrowdgathersonthedocksideasChristianslowlyturnstheboataroundin
arelativelysmallspace.Hedoesitwitheaseandreversessmoothlyintothe
sameberthweleftearlier.MacjumpsontothedockandtiesTheGrace
securelytoabollard.
“Backagain,”Christianmurmurs.
“Thankyou,”Imurmurshyly.“Thatwasaperfectafternoon.”
Christiangrins.“Ithoughtso,too.Perhapswecanenrolyouinsailingschool,
sowecangooutforafewdays,justthetwoofus.”
“I’dlovethat.Wecanchristenthebedroomagainandagain.”
Heleansforwardandkissesmeundermyear.“Hmm…Ilookforwardtoit,
Anastasia,”hewhispers,makingeverysinglehairfollicleonmybodystand
toattention.
Howdoeshedothat?
“Come,theapartmentisclean.Wecangoback.”
“Whataboutourthingsatthehotel?”
“Taylorhascollectedthemalready.”
Oh!When?
“Earliertoday,afterhedidasweepofTheGracewithhisteam.”Christian
answersmyunspokenquestion.
“Doesthatpoormaneversleep?”
“Hesleeps.”Christianquirksaneyebrowatme,puzzled.“He’sjustdoinghis
job,Anastasia,whichhe’sverygoodat.Jasonisarealfind.”
“Jason?”
“JasonTaylor.”
IrememberwhenIthoughtTaylorwashisfirstname.Jason.Itsuitshim—
solid,reliable.Forsomereasonitmakesmesmile.
“You’refondofTaylor,”Christiansays,eyeingmewithspeculation.
“IsupposeIam.”Hisquestionderailsme.Hefrowns.“I’mnotattractedto
him,ifthat’swhyyou’refrowning.Stop.”
Christianisalmostpouting—sulky.
Jeez,he’ssuchachildsometimes.“IthinkTaylorlooksafteryouverywell.
That’swhyIlikehim.Heseemskind,reliableandloyal.Hehasanavuncular
appealtome.”
“Avuncular?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,avuncular.”Christianistestingthewordandmeaning.Ilaugh.
“Oh,Christian,growup,forheaven’ssake.”
Hismouthdropsopen,surprisedbymyoutburst,butthenhefrownsasif
consideringmystatement.“I’mtrying,”hesayseventually.
“Thatyouare.Very.”Ianswersoftlybutthenrollmyeyesathim.
“Whatmemoriesyouevokewhenyourollyoureyesatme,Anastasia.”He
grins.
Ismirkathim.“Well,ifyoubehaveyourself,maybewecanrelivesomeof
thosememories.”
Hismouthtwistswithhumour.“Behavemyself?”Heraiseshiseyebrows.
“Really,MissSteele—whatmakesyouthinkIwanttorelivethem?”
“ProbablythewayyoureyeslituplikeChristmaswhenIsaidthat.”
“Youknowmesowellalready,”hesaysdryly.
“I’dliketoknowyoubetter.”
Hesmilessoftly.“AndIyou,Anastasia.”
“Thanks,Mac.”ChristianshakesMcConnell’shandandstepsonthedock.
“Alwaysapleasure,Mr.Grey,andgood-bye.Ana,greattomeetyou.”
Ishakehishandshyly.HemustknowwhatChristianandIwereuptoonthe
boatwhilehewentashore.
“Goodday,Mac,andthankyou.”
Hegrinsatmeandwinks,makingmeflush.Christiantakesmyhand,andwe
walkupthedocktothemarina’spromenade.
“Where’sMacfrom?”Iask,curiousabouthisaccent.
“Ireland…NorthernIreland,”Christiancorrectshimself.
“Isheyourfriend?”
“Mac?Heworksforme.HelpedbuildTheGrace.”
“Doyouhavemanyfriends?”
Hefrowns.“Notreally.DoingwhatIdo…Idon’tcultivatefriendships.
There’sonly—”Hestops,hisfrowndeepening,andIknowhewasgoingto
mentionMrs.Robinson.“Hungry?”heasks,tryingtochangethesubject.
Inod.Actually,I’mfamished.
“We’lleatwhereIleftthecar.Come.”
NexttoSP’sisasmallItalianbistrocalledBee’s.Itremindsmeoftheplace
inPortland—afewtablesandbooths,thedécorverycrispandmodernwitha
largeblackandwhitephotographofaturn-of-the-centuryfiestaservingasa
mural.
ChristianandIareseatedinabooth,poringoverthemenuandsippinga
deliciouslightFrascati.WhenIglanceupfromthemenu,havingmademy
choice,Christianisgazingatmespeculatively.
“What?”Iask.
“Youlooklovely,Anastasia.Theoutdoorsagreeswithyou.”
Iflush.“Ifeelratherwind-burnedtotellthetruth.ButIhadalovely
afternoon.Aperfectafternoon.Thankyou.”
Hesmiles,hiseyeswarm.“Mypleasure,”hemurmurs.
“CanIaskyousomething?”Idecideonafact-findingmission.
“Anything,Anastasia.Youknowthat.”Hecockshisheadtooneside,looking
delicious.
“Youdon’tseemtohavemanyfriends.Whyisthat?”
Heshrugsandfrowns.“Itoldyou,Idon’treallyhavetime.Ihavebusiness
associates—thoughthat’sverydifferentfromfriendships,Isuppose.Ihave
myfamilyandthat’sit.ApartfromElena.”
Iignorethementionofthebitch-troll.“Nomalefriendsyourownagethat
youcangooutwithandletoffsteam?”
“YouknowhowIliketoletoffsteam,Anastasia.”Christian’smouthtwists.
“AndI’vebeenworking,buildingupthebusiness.”Helookspuzzled.“That’s
allIdo—exceptsailandflyoccasionally.”
“Notevenincollege?”
“Notreally.”
“JustElena,then?”
Henods,hisexpressionwary.
“Mustbelonely.”
Hislipscurlinasmallwistfulsmile.“Whatwouldyouliketoeat?”heasks,
changingthesubjectagain.
“I’mgoingfortherisotto.”
“Goodchoice.”Christiansummonsthewaiter,puttinganendtothat
conversation.
Afterwe’veplacedourorder,Ishiftuncomfortablyinmyseat,staringatmy
knottedfingers.Ifhe’sinatalkingmood,Ineedtotakeadvantage.
Ihavetotalktohimabouthisexpectations,abouthis,um…needs.
“Anastasia,what’swrong?Tellme.”
Iglanceupintohisconcernedface.
“Tellme,”hesaysmoreforcefully,andhisconcernevolvesintowhat?Fear?
Anger?
Itakeadeepbreath.“I’mjustworriedthatthisisn’tenoughforyou.You
know,toletoffsteam.”
Hisjawtensesandhiseyesharden.“HaveIgivenyouanyindicationthatthis
isn’tenough?”
“No.”
“Thenwhydoyouthinkthat?”
“Iknowwhatyou’relike.Whatyou…um…need,”Istutter.
Hecloseshiseyesandrubshisforeheadwithlongfingers.
“WhatdoIhavetodo?”Hisvoiceisominouslysoftasifhe’sangry,andmy
heartsinks.
“No,youmisunderstand—youhavebeenamazing,andIknowit’sjustbeena
fewdays,butIhopeI’mnotforcingyoutobesomeoneyou’renot.”
“I’mstillme,Anastasia—inallmyfiftyshadesoffuckedupness.Yes,Ihave
tofighttheurgetobecontrolling…butthat’smynature,howI’vedealtwith
mylife.Yes,Iexpectyoutobehaveacertainway,andwhenyoudon’tit’s
bothchallengingandrefreshing.WestilldowhatIliketodo.Youletme
spankyouafteryouroutrageousbidyesterday.”Hesmilesfondlyatthe
memory.“Ienjoypunishingyou.Idon’tthinktheurgewillevergo…
butI’mtrying,andit’snotashardasIthoughtitwouldbe.”
Isquirmandflush,rememberingourillicittrystinhischildhoodbedroom.“I
didn’tmindthat,”Iwhisper,smilingshyly.
“Iknow.”Hislipscurlinareluctantsmile.“NeitherdidI.Butletmetellyou,
Anastasia,thisisallnewtomeandtheselastfewdayshavebeenthebestin
mylife.Idon’twanttochangeanything.”
Oh!
“They’vebeenthebestinmylife,too,withoutexception,”Imurmurandhis
smilebroadens.Myinnergoddessnodsfranticallyinagreement—andnudges
mehard.Okay,okay.“Soyoudon’twanttotakemeintoyourplayroom?”
Heswallowsandpales,alltraceofhumourgone.“No,Idon’t.”
“Whynot?”Iwhisper.ThisisnottheanswerIexpected.
Andyes,thereitis,thatlittlepinchofdisappointment.Myinnergoddess
stompsoffpouting,herarmscrossedlikeanangrytoddler.
“Thelasttimewewereinthereyouleftme,”hesaysquietly.“Iwillshyaway
fromanythingthatcouldmakeyouleavemeagain.Iwasdevastatedwhen
youleft.Iexplainedthat.Ineverwanttofeellikethatagain.I’vetoldyou
howIfeelaboutyou.”Hisgreyeyesarewideandintensewithhissincerity.
“Butithardlyseemsfair.Itcan’tbeveryrelaxingforyou—tobeconstantly
concernedabouthowIfeel.You’vemadeallthesechangesforme,andI…I
thinkIshouldreciprocateinsomeway.Idon’tknow—maybe…try…some
role-playinggames,”Istutter,myfaceascrimsonasthewallsofthe
playroom.
Whyisthissohardtotalkabout?Ihavedoneallmannerofkinkyfuckery
withthisman,thingsIhadn’tevenheardofafewweeksago,thingsthatI
wouldneverhavethoughtpossible,yetthehardestofallistalkingtohim.
“Ana,youdoreciprocate,morethanyouknow.Please,pleasedon’tfeellike
this.”
GoneiscarefreeChristian.Hiseyesarewidernowwithalarm,andit’sgut-
wrenching.
“Baby,it’sonlybeenoneweekend,”hecontinues.“Giveussometime.I
thoughtagreatdealaboutuslastweekwhenyouleft.Weneedtime.You
needtotrustme,andIyou.
Maybeintimewecanindulge,butIlikehowyouarenow.Ilikeseeingyou
thishappy,thisrelaxedandcarefree,knowingthatIhadsomethingtodowith
it.Ihavenever—”Hestopsandrunshishandthroughhishair.“Wehaveto
walkbeforewecanrun.”Suddenlyhesmirks.
“What’ssofunny?”
“Flynn.Hesaysthatallthetime.IneverthoughtI’dbequotinghim.”
“AFlynnism.”
Christianlaughs.“Exactly.”
Thewaiterarriveswithourstartersandbruschetta,andourconversation
changestackasChristianrelaxes.
Butwhentheunfeasiblylargeplatesareplacedbeforeus,Ican’thelpthink
howIhavethoughtofChristiantoday—relaxed,happyandcarefree.Atleast
he’slaughingnow,ateaseagain.
IbreatheaninwardsighofreliefashestartsquizzingmeaboutplacesI’ve
been.Thisisashortdiscussion,sinceIhaveneverbeenanywhereexceptthe
continentalUS.Christian,ontheotherhand,hastravelledtheworld.Weslip
intoaneasier,happierconversation,talkingaboutalltheplaceshe’svisited.
Afterourtastyandfillingmeal,ChristiandrivesbacktoEscala,Eva
Cassidy’sgentlesweetvoicesingingoverthespeakers.Itallowsmea
peacefulinterludeinwhichtothink.Ihavehadamind-blowingday.Dr.
Greene,ourshower,Christian’sadmission,makingloveatthehotelandon
theboat,buyingthecar.EvenChristianhimselfhasbeensodifferent.It’sasif
he’slettinggoofsomethingorrediscoveringsomething—Idon’tknow.
Whoknewhecouldbesosweet?Didhe?
WhenIglanceathim,he,too,lookslostinthought.Itstrikesmethenthathe
neverreallyhadanadolescence—anormaloneanyway.Ishakemyhead.
MyminddriftsbacktotheballanddancingwithDr.FlynnandChristian’s
fearthatFlynnhadtoldmeallabouthim.Christianisstillhidingsomething
fromme.Howcanwemoveonifhefeelsthatway?
HethinksImightleaveifIknowhim.HethinksthatImightleaveifhe’s
himself.Oh,thismanissocomplicated.
Aswegetclosertohishome,hestartsradiatingtensionuntilitbecomes
palpable.Aswedrive,hescansthesidewalksandsidealleys,hiseyesdarting
everywhere,andIknowhe’slookingforLeila.Istartlooking,too.Every
youngbrunetteisasuspect,butwedon’tseeher.
Whenhepullsintothegarage,hismouthissetinatense,grimline.Iwonder
whywe’vecomebackhereifhe’sgoingtobesowaryanduptight.Sawyeris
inthegarage,patrolling.ThedefiledAudiisgone.Hecomestoopenmydoor
asChristianpullsinbesidetheSUV.
“Hello,Sawyer,”Imurmurmygreeting.
“MissSteele.”Henods.“Mr.Grey.”
“Nosign?”Christianasks.
“No,sir.”
Christiannods,graspsmyhand,andheadsfortheelevator.Iknowhisbrainis
workingovertime—he’sdistracted.Oncewe’reinsideheturnstome.
“Youarenotallowedoutofherealone.Youunderstand?”hesnaps.
“Okay.”Jeez—keepyourhairon.Buthisattitudemakesmesmile.Iwantto
hugmyself—nowthisman,alldomineeringandshortwithmeIknow.I
marvelthatIwouldhavefounditsothreateningonlyaweekorsoagowhen
hespoketomethisway.Butnow,Iunderstandhimsomuchbetter.Thisis
hiscopingmechanism.He’sstressedaboutLeila,helovesme,andhewants
toprotectme.
“What’ssofunny?”hemurmurs,ahintofamusementinhisexpression.
“Youare.”
“Me?MissSteele?WhyamIfunny?”hepouts.
Christianpoutingis…hot.
“Don’tpout.”
“Why?”He’sevenmoreamused.
“BecauseithasthesameeffectonmeasIhaveonyouwhenIdothis.”Ibite
mylipdeliberately.
Heraiseshiseyebrows,surprisedandpleasedatthesametime.“Really?”He
poutsagainandleansdowntogivemeaswiftchastekiss.
Iraisemylipstomeethis,andinthenanosecondwhenourlipstouch,the
natureofthekisschanges—wildfirespreadingthroughmyveinsfromthis
intimatepointofcontact,drivingmetohim.
Suddenly,myfingersarecurlinginhishairashegrabsmeandpushesme
againsttheelevatorwall,hishandsframingmyface,holdingmetohislipsas
ourtonguesthrashagainsteachother.AndIdon’tknowifit’stheconfinesof
theelevatormakingeverythingmuchmorereal,butIfeelhisneed,his
anxiety,hispassion.
Holyshit.Iwanthim,here,now.
Theelevatorpingstoahalt,thedoorsslideopen,andChristiandragshisface
frommine,hishipsstillpinningmetothewall,hiserectiondiggingintome.
“Whoa,”hemurmurspanting.
“Whoa,”Imirrorhim,draggingawelcomebreathintomylungs.
Hegazesatme,eyesblazing.“Whatyoudotome,Ana.”Hetracesmylower
lipwithhisthumb.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,Taylorstepsbackwardsohe’snolongerinmy
lineofsight.IreachupandkissChristianatthecornerofhisbeautifully
sculpturedmouth.
“Whatyoudotome,Christian.”
Hestepsbackandtakesmyhand,hiseyesdarkernow,hooded.“Come,”he
orders.
Taylorisstillinthefoyer,waitingdiscreetlyforus.
“Goodevening,Taylor,”Christiansayscordially.
“Mr.Grey,MissSteele.”
“IwasMrs.Tayloryesterday.”IgrinatTaylor,whoflushes.
“Thathasaniceringtoit,MissSteele,”Taylorsaysmatter-of-factly.
“Ithoughtso,too.”
Christiantightenshisholdonmyhand,scowling.“Ifyoutwohavequite
finished,I’dlikeadebrief.”HeglaresatTaylor,whonowlooks
uncomfortable,andIcringeinwardly.
Ihaveoversteppedthemark.
“Sorry,”ImouthatTaylor,whoshrugsandsmileskindlybeforeIturnto
followChristian.“I’llbewithyoushortly.IjustwantawordwithMiss
Steele,”ChristiansaystoTaylor,andIknowI’mintrouble.
Christianleadsmeintohisbedroomandclosesthedoor.
“Don’tflirtwiththestaff,Anastasia,”hescolds.
Iopenmymouthtodefendmyself—thencloseitagain,thenopenit.“I
wasn’tflirting.
Iwasbeingfriendly—thereisadifference.”
“Don’tbefriendlywiththestafforflirtwiththem.Idon’tlikeit.”
Oh.Good-bye,carefreeChristian.“I’msorry,”Imutterandstaredownatmy
fingers.
Hehasn’tmademefeellikeachildallday.Reachingdownhecupsmychin,
pullingmyheaduptomeethiseyes.
“YouknowhowjealousIam,”hewhispers.
“Youhavenoreasontobejealous,Christian.Youownmebodyandsoul.”
Heblinksasifhe’sfindingthisfacthardtoprocess.Heleansdownandkisses
mequickly,butwithnoneofthepassionweexperiencedamomentagointhe
elevator.
“Iwon’tbelong.Makeyourselfathome,”hesayssulkilyandturns,leaving
mestandinginhisbedroom,dazedandconfused.
WhyonearthwouldhebejealousofTaylor?Ishakemyheadindisbelief.
Glancingatthealarmclock,Inoticeit’sjustaftereight.Idecidetogetmy
clothesreadyforworktomorrow.Iheadupstairstomyroomandopenthe
walk-incloset.It’sempty.Alltheclotheshavegone.Ohno!Christianhas
takenmeatmywordanddisposedoftheclothes.Shit.
Mysubconsciousglaresatme.Well,thatwillbeyouandyourbigmouth.
Whydidhetakemeatmyword?Mymother’sadvicecomesbacktohaunt
me,“Menaresoliteral,darling.”Ipout,staringattheemptyspace.There
weresomelovelyclothes,too,likethesilverdressIworetotheball.
Iwanderdisconsolatelyintothebedroom,Waitamoment—whatisgoingon?
TheiPadisgone.Where’smyMac?Ohno.Myfirstuncharitablethoughtis
thatLeilamayhavestolenthem.
IflybackdownstairsandbackintoChristian’sbedroom.Onthebedsidetable
aremyMac,myiPad,andmysatchel.It’sallhere.
Iopenthewalk-inclosetdoor.Myclothesarehere—allofthem—sharing
spacewithChristian’sclothes.Whendidthishappen?Whydoeshenever
warnmebeforehedoesthingslikethis?
Iturn,andhe’sstandinginthedoorway.
“Oh,theymanagedthemove,”hemutters,distracted.
“What’swrong?”Iask.Hisfaceisgrim.
“TaylorthinksLeilawasgettinginthroughtheemergencystairwell.Shemust
havehadakey.Allthelockshavebeenchangednow.Taylor’steamhasdone
asweepofeveryroomintheapartment.She’snothere.”Hestopsandrunsa
handthroughhishair.“IwishIknewwhereshewas.She’sevadingallour
attemptstofindherwhensheneedshelp.”
Hefrowns,andmyearlierpiquevanishes.Iputmyarmsaroundhim.Folding
meintohisembrace,hekissesmyhair.
“Whatwillyoudowhenyoufindher?”Iask.
“Dr.Flynnhasaplace.”
“Whataboutherhusband?”
“He’swashedhishandsofher.”Christian’stoneisbitter.“Herfamilyisin
Connecticut.Ithinkshe’sverymuchonherownoutthere.”
“That’ssad.”
“Areyouokaywithallyourstuffbeinghere?Iwantyoutosharemyroom,”
hemurmurs.Whoa,quickchangeofdirection.
“Yes.”
“Iwantyousleepingwithme.Idon’thavenightmareswhenyou’rewithme.”
“Youhavenightmares?”
“Yes.”
Itightenmyholdaroundhim.Holycow.Morebaggage.Myheartcontracts
forthisman.“Iwasjustgettingmyclothesreadyforworktomorrow,”I
mutter.
“Work!”Christianexclaimsasifit’sadirtyword,andhereleasesme,glaring.
“Yes,work,”Ireply,confusedbyhisreaction.
Hestaresatmewithcompleteincomprehension.“ButLeila—she’sout
there,”hepauses.“Idon’twantyoutogotowork.”
What?“That’sridiculous,Christian.Ihavetogotowork.”
“No,youdon’t.”
“Ihaveanewjob,whichIenjoy.OfcourseIhavetogotowork.”Whatdoes
hemean?
“No,youdon’t,”herepeats,emphatically.
“DoyouthinkIamgoingtostayheretwiddlingmythumbswhileyou’reoff
beingMasteroftheUniverse?”
“Frankly…yes.”
Oh,Fifty,Fifty,Fifty…givemestrength.
“Christian,Ineedtogotowork.”
“No,youdon’t.”
“Yes.I.Do.”Isayitslowlyasifhe’sachild.
Hescowlsatme.“It’snotsafe.”
“Christian…Ineedtoworkforaliving,andI’llbefine.”
“No,youdon’tneedtoworkforaliving—andhowdoyouknowyou’llbe
fine?”He’salmostshouting.
Whatdoeshemean?He’sgoingtosupportme?Oh,thisisbeyondridiculous
—I’veknownhimforwhat—fiveweeks?
He’sangrynow,hisgreyeyesstormyandflashing,butIdon’tgiveashit.
“Forheaven’ssake,Christian,Leilawasstandingattheendofyourbed,and
shedidn’tharmme,andyes,Idoneedtowork.Idon’twanttobebeholdento
you.Ihavemystudentloanstopay.”
Hismouthpressesintoagrimline,asIplacemyhandsonmyhips.Iamnot
budgingonthis.Whothefuckdoeshethinkheis?
“Idon’twantyougoingtowork.”
“It’snotuptoyou,Christian.Thisisnotyourdecisiontomake.”
Herunshishandthroughhishairashestaresatme.Seconds,minutestickby
asweglareateachother.
“Sawyerwillcomewithyou.”
“Christian,that’snotnecessary.You’rebeingirrational.”
“Irrational?”hegrowls.“Eitherhecomeswithyou,orIwillbereally
irrationalandkeepyouhere.”
Hewouldn’t,wouldhe?“How,exactly?”
“Oh,I’dfindaway,Anastasia.Don’tpushme.”
“Okay!”Iconcede,holdingupbothmyhands,placatinghim.Holyfuck—
Fiftyisbackwithavengeance.
Westand,scowlingateachother.
“Okay—Sawyercancomewithmeifitmakesyoufeelbetter.”Iconcede
rollingmyeyes.Christiannarrowshisandtakesamenacingstepinmy
direction.Iimmediatelystepback.Hestopsandtakesadeepbreath,closes
hiseyes,andrunsbothhishandsthroughhishair.Ohno.Fiftyiswelland
trulywoundup.
“ShallIgiveyouatour?”
Atour?Areyoukiddingme?“Okay,”Imutterwarily.Anotherchangeoftack
—Mr.
Mercurialisbackintown.HeholdsouthishandandwhenItakeit,he
squeezesminesoftly.
“Ididn’tmeantofrightenyou.”
“Youdidn’t.Iwasjustgettingreadytorun,”Iquip.
“Run?”Christianeyeswiden.
“I’mjoking!”Ohjeez.
Heleadsmeoutofthecloset,andItakeamomenttocalmdown.Adrenaline
isstillcoursingthroughmybody.AfightwithFiftyisnottobeundertaken
lightly.
Hegivesmeatouroftheapartment,showingmethevariousrooms.Along
withtheplayroomandthreesparebedroomsupstairs,I’mintriguedtofind
thatTaylorandMrs.
Joneshaveawingtothemselves—akitchen,spaciouslivingarea,anda
bedroomeach.
Mrs.JoneshasnotyetreturnedfromvisitinghersisterwholivesinPortland.
Downstairs,theroomthatcatchesmyeyeisoppositehisstudy—aTVroom
withatoo-largeplasmascreenandassortedgamesconsoles.It’scosy.
“SoyoudohaveanXbox?”Ismirk.
“Yes,butI’mcrapatit.Elliotalwaysbeatsme.Thatwasfunny,whenyou
thoughtImeantthisroomwasmyplayroom.”Hegrinsdownatmehissnit-
fitforgotten.Thankheavenshe’srecoveredhisgoodmood.
“I’mgladyoufindmeamusing,Mr.Grey,”Irespondhaughtily.
“Thatyouare,MissSteele—whenyou’renotbeingexasperating,ofcourse.”
“I’musuallyexasperatingwhenyou’rebeingunreasonable.”
“Me?Unreasonable?”
“Yes,Mr.Grey.Unreasonablecouldbeyourmiddlename.”
“Idon’thaveamiddlename.”
“Unreasonablewouldsuitthen.”
“Ithinkthat’samatterofopinion,MissSteele.”
“IwouldbeinterestedinDr.Flynn’sprofessionalopinion.”
Christiansmirks.
“IthoughtTrevelyanwasyourmiddlename.”
“No.Surname.”
“Butyoudon’tuseit.”
“It’stoolong.Come,”hecommands.IfollowhimoutoftheTVroom
throughthegreatroomtothemaincorridorpasttheutilityroomandan
impressivewinecellarandintoTaylor’sownlarge,well-equippedoffice.
Taylorstandswhenweenter.There’sroominhereforameetingtablethat
seatssix.Aboveonedeskisabankofmonitors.Ihadnoideatheapartment
hadCCTV.Itappearstomonitorthebalcony,stairwell,serviceelevator,and
foyer.
“Hi,Taylor.I’mjustgivingAnastasiaatour.”
Taylornodsbutdoesn’tsmile.Iwonderifhe’sbeentoldoff,too,andwhyis
hestillworking?WhenIsmileathim,henodspolitely.Christiangrabsmy
handoncemoreandleadsmetothelibrary.
“And,ofcourse,you’vebeeninhere.”Christianopensthedoor.Ispythe
greenbaizeofthebilliardtable.
“Shallweplay?”Iask.Christiansmiles,surprised.
“Okay.Haveyouplayedbefore?”
“Afewtimes,”Ilie,andhenarrowshiseyes,cockinghisheadtooneside.
“You’reahopelessliar,Anastasia.Eitheryou’veneverplayedbeforeor—”
Ilickmylips.“Frightenedofalittlecompetition?”
“Frightenedofalittlegirllikeyou?”Christianscoffsgood-naturedly.
“Awager,Mr.Grey.”
“You’rethatconfident,MissSteele?”Hesmirks,amusedandincredulousat
once.
“Whatwouldyouliketowager?”
“IfIwin,you’lltakemebackintotheplayroom.”
Hegazesatmeasifhecan’tquitecomprehendwhatI’vesaid.“AndifI
win?”heasksafterseveralshell-shockedbeats.
“Thenit’syourchoice.”
Hismouthtwistsashecontemplateshisanswer.“Okay,deal.”Hesmirks.
“Doyouwanttoplaypool,Englishsnookerorcarombilliards?”
“Pool,please.Idon’tknowtheothers.”
Fromacupboardbeneathoneofthebookshelves,Christiantakesoutalarge
leathercase.Insidethepoolballsarenestedinvelvet.Quicklyandefficiently,
herackstheballsonthebaize.Idon’tthinkI’veeverplayedpoolonsucha
largetablebefore.Christianhandsmeacueandsomechalk.
“Wouldyouliketobreak?”Hefeignspoliteness.He’senjoyinghimself—he
thinkshe’sgoingtowin.
“Okay.”Ichalktheendofmycue,andblowtheexcesschalkoff—staringup
atChristianthroughmylashes.HiseyesdarkenasIdo.
Ilineuponthewhiteballandwithaswiftcleanstroke,hitthecentreballof
thetrianglesquareonwithsuchforcethatastripedballspinsandplunges
intothetoprightpocket.
I’vescatteredtherestoftheballs.
“Ichoosestripes,”Isayinnocently,smilingcoylyatChristian.Hismouth
twistsinamusement.
“Bemyguest,”hesayspolitely.
Iproceedtopocketthenextthreeballsinquicksuccession.Inside,I’m
dancing.Atthismoment,IamsogratefultoJoséforteachingmetoplaypool
andplayitwell.Christianwatchesimpassively,givingnothingaway,buthis
amusementseemstoebb.Imissthegreenstripebyahairsbreadth.
“Youknow,Anastasia,Icouldstandhereandwatchyouleaningand
stretchingacrossthisbilliardtableallday,”hesaysappreciatively.
Iflush.ThankheavensIamwearingmyjeans.Hesmirks.He’stryingtoput
meoffmygame,thebastard.Hepullshiscreamsweateroverhishead,tosses
itontothebackofachair,andgrinsatme,ashesauntersovertotakehisfirst
shot.
Hebendslowoverthetable.Mymouthgoesdry.Oh,Iseewhathemeans.
ChristianintightjeansandwhiteT-shirt,bending,likethat…issomethingto
behold.Iquitelosemytrainofthought.Hesinksfoursolidsrapidly,then
foulsbysinkingthewhite.
“Averyelementarymistake,Mr.Grey,”Itease.
Hesmirks.“Ah,MissSteele,Iambutafoolishmortal.Yourgo,Ibelieve.”
Hewavesatthetable.
“You’renottryingtoloseareyou?”
“Ohno.ForwhatIhaveinmindastheprize,Iwanttowin,Anastasia.”He
shrugscasually.“Butthen,Ialwayswanttowin.”
Inarrowmyeyesathim.Rightthen…I’msogladI’mwearingmyblue
blouse,whichispleasinglylow-cut.Istalkaroundthetable,bendinglowat
everyavailableopportunity—givingChristiananeyefulofmybehindandmy
cleavagewheneverIcan.Twocanplayatthatgame.Iglanceathim.
“Iknowwhatyou’redoing,”hewhispers,hiseyesdark.
Itiltmyheadcoquettishlytooneside,gentlyfondlingmycue,runningmy
handupanddownitslowly.“Oh.Iamjustdecidingwheretotakemynext
shot,”Imurmurdistractedly.
Leaningacross,Ihittheorangestripeintoabetterposition.Ithenstand
directlyinfrontofChristianandtaketherestfromunderneaththetable.Iline
upmynextshot,leaningrightoverthetable.IhearChristian’ssharpintakeof
breath,andofcourse,Imiss.Shit.
HecomestostandbehindmewhileIamstillbentoverthetableandplaces
hishandonmybackside.Hmm…
“Areyouwavingthisaroundtotauntme,MissSteele?”Andhesmacksme,
hard.
Igasp.“Yes,”Imutter,becauseit’strue.
“Becarefulwhatyouwishfor,baby.”
Irubmybehindashewanderstotheotherendofthetable,leansover,and
takeshisshot.Jeez,Icouldlookathimallday.Hehitstheredball,andit
shootsintotheleftsidepocket.Heaimsfortheyellow,topright,anditjust
misses.Igrin.
“RedRoomherewecome,”Itaunthim.
Hemerelyraisesaneyebrowanddirectsmetocontinue.Imakequickwork
ofthegreenstripeandbysomefluke,managetoknockinthefinalorange
stripe.
“Nameyourpocket,”Christianmurmurs,andit’sasifhe’stalkingabout
somethingelse,somethingdarkandrude.
“Topleft-hand.”Itakeaimovertheblack,hitit,butmiss.Itskirtswide.
Damn.
Christiansmilesawickedgrinasheleansoverthetableandmakesshort
workofthetworemainingsolids.Iampracticallypanting,watchinghim,his
lithebodystretchingoverthetable.Hestandsandchalkshiscue,hiseyes
burningintome.
“IfIwin…”
Ohyes?
“Iamgoingtospankyou,thenfuckyouoverthisbilliardtable.”
Holyshit.Everysinglemusclesouthofmynavelclencheshard.
“Topright,”hemurmurs,pointingtotheblack,andbendstotaketheshot.
Witheasygrace,Christiantapsthewhiteballsothatitglidesacrossthetable,
kissestheblackandoh-so-slowlytheblackrolls,teetersontheedge,and
finallydropsintothetoprightpocketofthebilliardtable.
Damn.
Hestands,andhismouthtwistsinatriumphantI-so-own-you-Steelesmile.
Puttingdownhiscue,hesaunterscasuallytowardme,alltousledhair,jeans,
andwhiteT-shirt.Hedoesn’tlooklikeaCEO—helookslikeabadboyfrom
thewrongsideoftown.Holycow,he’ssofuckingsexy.
“You’renotgoingtobeasoreloser,areyou?”hemurmurs,barelycontaining
hisgrin.
“Dependshowhardyouspankme,”Iwhisper,holdingontomycuefor
support.Hetakesmycueandputsittooneside,hookshisfingerintothetop
ofmyshirt,andpullsmetowardhim.
“Well,let’scountyourmisdemeanours,MissSteele.”Hecountsonhislong
fingers.
“One,makingmejealousofmyownstaff.Two,arguingwithmeabout
working.Andthree,wavingyourdelectablederriereatmeforthelasttwenty
minutes.”
Hiseyesglowasoftgreywithexcitement,andleaningdown,herubshisnose
againstmine.“Iwantyoutotakeyourjeansandthisveryfetchingshirtoff.
Now.”Heplantsafeather-softkissonmylips,wandersnonchalantlyoverto
thedoor,andlocksit.
Ohmy.
Whenheturnsandgazesatme,hiseyesareburning.Istandparalyzedlikea
completezombie,myheartpounding,mybloodpumping,notactuallyableto
moveamuscle.Inmymind,allIcanthinkis—thisisforhim—thethought
repeatinglikeamantraoverandoveragain.
“Clothes,Anastasia.Youappeartostillbewearingthem.Takethemoff—orI
willdoitforyou.”
“Youdoit.”Ifinallyfindmyvoice,anditsoundslowandheated.Christian
grins.
“Oh,MissSteele.It’sadirtyjob,butIthinkIcanrisetothechallenge.”
“Younormallyrisetomostchallenges,Mr.Grey.”Iraiseaneyebrowathim,
andhesmirks.
“Why,MissSteele,whateverdoyoumean?”Onhiswayovertome,he
pausesatthesmalldeskbuiltintooneofthebookshelves.Reachingover,he
picksupatwelve-inchPerspexruler.Heholdseachendandflexesit,hiseyes
notleavingmine.
Holyshit—hisweaponofchoice.Mymouthgoesdry.
Suddenly,I’mhotandbotheredanddampinalltherightplaces.Only
Christiancouldturnmeonwithjustalookandtheflexofaruler.Heslipsit
intothebackpocketofhisjeansandamblestowardme,eyesdarkandfullof
promise.Withoutsayingaword,hedropstohiskneesinfrontofmeand
startstoundomylaces,quicklyandefficiently,draggingbothmyConverse
andsocksoff.IleanonthesideofthebilliardtablesoIdon’tfall.
Gazingdownathimasheundoesmylaces,Imarvelatthedepthoffeeling
thatIhaveforthisbeautifulflawedman.Ilovehim.
Hegrabsmyhips,slipshisfingersintothewaistbandofmyjeans,andundoes
thebuttonandzipper.Hepeersupthroughhislonglashes,grinninghismost
salaciousgrinasheslowlypeelsmyjeansoff.Istepoutofthem,gladthat
I’mwearingthesepretty,prettypanties,andhegraspsthebackofmylegs
andrunshisnosealongtheapexofmythighs.
Ipracticallymelt.
“Iwanttobequiteroughwithyou,Ana.You’llhavetotellmetostopifit’s
toomuch,”
hebreathes.
Ohmy.Hekissesme…there.Imoansoftly.
“Safeword?”Imurmur.
“No,nosafeword,justtellmetostop,andI’llstop.Understand?”Hekisses
meagain,nuzzlingme.Oh,thatfeelsgood.Hestands,hisstareintense.
“Answerme,”heordershisvoicevelvetsoft.
“Yes,yes,Iunderstand.”I’mpuzzledbyhisinsistence.
“You’vebeendroppinghintsandgivingmemixedsignalsallday,Anastasia,”
hesays.
“YousaidyouwereworriedI’dlostmyedge.I’mnotsurewhatyoumeantby
that,andIdon’tknowhowseriousyouwere,butwearegoingtofindout.I
don’twanttogobackintotheplayroomyet,sowecantrythisnow,butifyou
don’tlikeit,youmustpromisetotellme.”Aburningintensitybornofhis
anxietyreplaceshisearliercockiness.
Whoa,pleasedon’tbeanxious,Christian.“I’lltellyou.Nosafeword,”I
reiteratetoreassurehim.
“We’relovers,Anastasia.Loversdon’tneedsafewords.”Hefrowns.“Do
they?”
“Iguessnot,”Imurmur.Jeez—howdoIknow?“Ipromise.”
HesearchesmyfaceforanycluethatImightlackthecourageofmy
convictions,andI’mnervousbutexcited,too.I’mmuchhappiertodothis,
knowingthathelovesme.It’sverysimpletome,andrightnow,Idon’twant
tooverthinkit.
Aslowsmilestretchesacrosshisface,andhestartstounbuttonmyshirt,his
deftfingersmakingshortworkofit,thoughhedoesn’ttakeitoff.Heleans
overandpicksupthecue.Ohfuck,what’shegoingtodowiththat?Afrisson
offearrunsthroughme.
“Youplaywell,MissSteele.ImustsayI’msurprised.Whydon’tyousinkthe
black?”
Myfearforgotten,Ipout,wonderingwhythehellheshouldbesurprised—
sexy,arrogantbastard.Myinnergoddessislimberingupinthebackground,
doingherfloorexercises—agreatfatsmileonherface.
Ipositionthewhiteball.Christianstrollsbackaroundthetableandstands
rightbehindmeasIleanovertotakemyshot.Heplaceshishandonmyright
thighandrunshisfingersupanddownmyleg,uptomybehindandback
again,lightlystrokingme.
“Iamgoingtomissifyoukeepdoingthat,”Iwhisper,closingmyeyesand
relishingthefeelofhishandsonme.
“Idon’tcareifyouhitormiss,baby.Ijustwantedtoseeyoulikethis—
partiallydressed,stretchedoutonmybilliardtable.Doyouhaveanyidea
howhotyoulookatthemoment?”
Iflush,andmyinnergoddessgrabsarosebetweenherteethandstartsto
tango.Takingadeepbreath,Itrytoignorehimandlineupmyshot.It’s
impossible.Hecaressesmybehind,overandoveragain.
“Topleft,”Imurmur,thenhitthewhiteball.Hesmacksmehard,squarelyon
mybackside.
It’ssounexpected,Iyelp.Thewhitehitstheblack,whichbouncesoffthe
cushionwideofthepocket.Christiancaressesmybehindagain.
“Oh,Ithinkyouneedtotrythatagain,”hewhispers.“Youshould
concentrate,Anastasia.”
Iampantingnow,excitedbythisgame.Hestrollstotheendofthetable,sets
uptheblackballagain,thenrunsthewhiteballbackdowntome.Helooksso
carnal,darkeyedwithalascivioussmile.HowcouldIeverresistthisman?I
catchtheballandlineitup,readytostrikeagain.
“Uh-uh,”headmonishes.“Justwait.”Oh,hejustlovesprolongingtheagony.
Hewandersbackandstandsbehindmeagain.Iclosemyeyesoncemoreas
hestrokesmyleftthighthistimethenfondlesmybacksideagain.
“Takeaim,”hebreathes.
Ican’thelpmymoanasdesiretwistsandturnsinsideme.AndItry,reallytry,
tothinkaboutwhereIshouldhittheblackwiththewhite.Ishiftslightlyto
myright,andhefollowsme.Ibendoverthetableoncemore.Usingevery
lastvestigeofinnerstrength—whichhasdiminishedconsiderablysinceI
knowwhatwillhappenonceIstrikethewhiteball—Itakeaimandhitthe
whiteagain.Christiansmacksmeoncemore,hard.
Ow!Imissagain.“Ohno!”Igroan.
“Oncemore,baby.Andifyoumissthistime,I’mreallygoingtoletyouhave
it.”
What?Havewhat?
Hesetsuptheblackballoncemoreandwalks,achinglyslow,backtome
untilhe’sstandingbehindme,caressingmybacksideoncemore.
“Youcandoit,”hecoaxes.
Oh—notwhenyou’redistractingmelikethis.Ipushmybehindbackagainst
hishand,andhesmacksmelightly.
“Eager,MissSteele?”hemurmurs.
Yes.Iwantyou.
“Well,let’sgetridofthese.”Hegentlyslidesmypantiesdownmythighsand
off.Ican’tseewhathedoeswiththem,butheleavesmefeelingexposedas
heplantsasoftkissoneachcheek.
“Taketheshot,baby.”
Iwanttowhimper,thisissonotgoingtohappen.IknowIamgoingtomiss.
Ilineupthewhite,hitit,andinmyimpatience,misstheblackcompletely.I
waitfortheblow—butitdoesn’tcome.Insteadheleansrightoverme,
flatteningmeagainstthetable,takesthecueoutofmyhandandrollsittothe
sidecushion.Icanfeelhim,hard,againstmybackside.
“Youmissed,”hesayssoftlyinmyear.Mycheekispressedagainstthebaize.
“Putyourhandsflatonthetable.”
Idoashesays.
“Good.I’mgoingtospankyounowandnexttime,maybeyouwon’t.”He
shiftssohe’sstandingtomyleftside,hiserectionagainstmyhip.
Igroanandmyheartleapsintomymouth.Mybreathcomesinshortpants
andahot,heavyexcitementcoursesthroughmyveins.Gently,hecaressesmy
behindandcurlshisotherhandaroundthenapeofmyneck,hisfingers
fistinginmyhair,hiselbowatmyback,holdingmedown.Iamcompletely
helpless.
“Openyourlegs,”hemurmursandforamoment,Ihesitate.Andhesmacks
mehard—
withtheruler!Thenoiseisharsherthanthesting,andittakesmebysurprise.
Igasp,andhehitsmeagain.
“Legs,”heorders.Iopenmylegs,panting.Therulerstrikesagain.Ow—it
stings,butitscrackacrossmyskinsoundsworsethanitfeels.
Iclosemyeyesandabsorbthepain.It’snottoobad,andChristian’sbreathing
becomesharsher.Hehitsmeagainandagain,andImoan.Iamnotsurehow
manymorestrokesIcanbear—buthearinghim,knowinghowturnedonhe
is,feedsmyarousalandmywillingnesstocontinue.Iamcrossingtothedark
side,aplaceinmypsycheIdon’tknowwellbuthavevisitedbeforeinthe
playroom—withtheTallis.Therulerstrikesoncemore,andImoanloudly,
andChristiangroansinresponse.Hehitsmeagain—andagain…andonce
more…harderthistime—andIwince.
“Stop.”ThewordisoutofmymouthbeforeI’mevenawarethatI’vesaidit.
Christiandropstherulerimmediatelyandreleasesme.
“Enough?”hewhispers.
“Yes.”
“Iwanttofuckyounow,”hesays,hisvoicestrained.
“Yes,”Imurmurwithlonging.Heundoeshisfly,asIliepantingonthetable,
knowingthathe’sgoingtoberough.
ImarveloncemoreathowIhavemanaged—andyes,enjoyed—whathe’s
donetomeuptothispoint.It’ssodarkbutsohim.
Heeasestwofingersinsidemeandmovestheminacircularmotion.The
feelingisexquisite.Closingmyeyes,Irevelinthesensation.Ihearthetell-
taleripoffoil,thenhe’sstandingbehindme,betweenmylegs,pushingthem
wider.
Slowlyhesinksintome,fillingme.Ihearhisgroanofpurepleasure,andit
stirsmysoul.Hegraspsmyhipsfirmly,easesoutofmeagain,andthistime
slamsbackintome,causingmetocryout.Hestillsforamoment.
“Again?”heaskssoftly.
“Yes…I’mfine.Loseyourself…takemewithyou,”Imurmurbreathlessly.
Hemoanslowinhisthroat,easesoutofmeoncemore,thenslamsintome,
andrepeatsthisoverandoverslowly,deliberately—apunishing,brutal,
heavenlyrhythm.
Ohfuckingmy…Myinsidesbegintoquicken.Hefeelsit,too,andincreases
therhythm,pushingme,higher,harder,faster—andIsurrender,exploding
aroundhim—adraining,soul-grabbingorgasmthatleavesmespentand
exhausted.
I’mvaguelyawarethatChristian,too,islettinggo,callingmyname,his
fingersdiggingintomyhips,andthenhestillsandcollapsesonme.Wesink
tothefloor,andhecradlesmeinhisarms.
“Thankyou,baby,”hebreathes,coveringmyupturnedfaceinsoftfeather-
lightkisses.
Iopenmyeyesandgazeupathim,andhewrapshisarmstighteraroundme.
“Yourcheekispinkfromthebaize,”hemurmurs,rubbingmyfacetenderly.
“Howwasthat?”Hiseyesarewideandcautious.
“Teeth-clenchinglygood,”Imutter.“Ilikeitrough,Christian,andIlikeit
gentle,too.
Ilikethatit’swithyou.”
Hecloseshiseyesandhugsmeeventighter.
Jeez,I’mtired.
“Youneverfail,Ana.Youarebeautiful,bright,challenging,fun,sexy,andI
thankdivineprovidenceeverydaythatitwasyouthatcametointerviewme
andnotKatherineKavanagh.”Hekissesmyhair.Ismileandyawnagainsthis
chest.“I’mwearingyouout,”
hecontinues.“Come.Bath,thenbed.”
WearebothinChristian’sbath,facingeachotherchin-deepinfoam,the
sweetscentofjasmineenvelopingus.Christianismassagingmyfeet,oneata
time.Itfeelssogooditshouldbeillegal.
“CanIaskyousomething?”Imurmur.
“Ofcourse.Anything,Ana,youknowthat.”
Itakeadeepbreathandsitup,flinchingonlyslightly.
“Tomorrow—whenIgotowork—canSawyerjustdelivermetothefront
dooroftheofficethenpickmeupattheendoftheday?Please,Christian.
Please,”Iplead.
Hishandsstillashisbrowcreases.“Ithoughtweagreed,”hegrumbles.
“Please,”Ibeg.
“Whataboutlunchtime?”
“I’llmakemyselfsomethingtotakefromheresoIdon’thavetogoout,
please.”
Hekissesmyinstep.“Ifinditverydifficulttosaynotoyou,”hemuttersasif
hesensesthisisafailingonhispart.“Youwon’tgoout?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Ibeamathim.“Thankyou.”Ileanupontomyknees,sloshingwater
everywhere,andkisshim.
“You’remostwelcome,MissSteele.How’syourbehind?”
“Sore.Butnottoobad.Thewaterissoothing.”
“I’mgladyoutoldmetostop,”hesays,gazingatme.
“Soismybehind.”
Hegrins.
Istretchoutinbed,sotired.It’sonlytenthirty,butitfeelslikethreeinthe
morning.Thishastobeoneofthemostexhaustingweekendsofmylife.
“Didn’tMs.Actonprovideanynightwear?”Christianasks,hisvoicelaced
withdisapprovalashestaresdownatme.
“Ihavenoidea.IlikewearingyourT-shirts,”Imumblesleepily.
Hisfacesoftens,andheleansoverandkissesmyforehead.
“Ineedtowork.ButIdon’twanttoleaveyoualone.CanIuseyourlaptopto
logintotheoffice?WillIdisturbyouifIworkfromhere?”
“S’notmylaptop.”Idrift.
Thealarmclickson,startlingmeawakewiththetrafficnews.Christianisstill
asleepbesideme.Rubbingmyeyes,Iglanceattheclock.Sixthirty—too
early.
It’srainingoutsideforthefirsttimeinages,andthelightismutedand
mellow.I’mcosyandcomfortableinthisvastmodernmonolithwith
Christianatmyside.Istretchandturntothedeliciousmanbesideme.His
eyesspringopenandheblinkssleepily.
“Goodmorning.”Ismileandcaresshisface,leaningdowntokisshim.
“Goodmorning,baby.Iusuallywakebeforethealarmgoesoff,”hemurmurs
inwonder.“It’ssetsoearly.”
“Thatitis,MissSteele.”Christiangrins.“Ihavetogetup.”Hekissesme,and
thenhe’supandoutofbed.Iflopbackagainstthepillows.Wow,wakingup
onaschooldaynexttoChristianGrey.Howdidthisallhappen?Iclosemy
eyesanddoze.
“Comeon,sleepyhead,getup.”Christianleansoverme.He’sshaved,clean,
fresh—
Hmm,hesmellssogood—inacrispwhiteshirtandblacksuit,notie—the
CEOisback.
HolyMoses,helooksgoodlikethis,too.
“What?”heasks.
“Iwishyou’dcomebacktobed.”
Hislipspart,surprisedbymycome-on,andhesmilesalmostshyly.“Youare
insatiable,MissSteele.Asmuchasthatideaappeals,Ihaveaneightthirty
meeting,soIhavetogoshortly.”
Oh,I’vesleptforanotherhourorso.Shit.Ileapoutofbed,muchto
Christian’samusement.
Ishoweranddressquickly,wearingtheclothesIsetoutyesterday:afitted,
greypencilskirt;pale-greysilkshirt;andhigh-heeledblackpumps,allcareof
mynewwardrobe.Ibrushmyhairandcarefullyputitup,thenwanderoutto
thegreatroom,notreallyknowingwhattoexpect.HowamIgoingtogetto
work?
Christianissippingcoffeeatthebreakfastbar.Mrs.Jonesisinthekitchen
makingpancakesandbacon.
“Youlooklovely,”Christianmurmurs.Wrappinganarmaroundme,hekisses
meundermyear.Outofthecornerofmyeye,IcatchMrs.Jones’ssmile.I
flush.
“Goodmorning,MissSteele,”shesaysassheplacespancakesandbaconin
frontofme.“Oh,thankyou.Goodmorning,”Imumble.Jeez—Icouldget
usedtothis.
“Mr.Greysaysyou’dliketotakelunchwithyoutowork.Whatwouldyou
liketoeat?”
IglanceatChristian,whoistryingveryhardnottosmirk.Inarrowmyeyes
athim.
“Asandwich…salad.Ireallydon’tmind.”IbeamatMrs.Jones.
“I’llrustleupapackedlunchforyou,ma’am.”
“Please,Mrs.Jones,callmeAna.”
“Ana.”Shesmilesandturnstomakemetea.
Wow…thisissocool.
IturnandcockmyheadatChristian,challenginghim—goon,accusemeof
flirtingwithMrs.Jones.
“Ihavetogo,baby.Taylorwillcomebackanddropyouatworkwith
Sawyer.”
“Onlytothedoor.”
“Yes.Onlytothedoor.”Christianrollshiseyes.“Becareful,though.”
IglancearoundandspyTaylorstandingintheentranceway.Christianstands
andkissesme,graspingmychin.
“Laters,baby.”
“Haveagooddayattheoffice,dear,”Icallafterhim.Heturnsandflashesme
hisbeautifulsmilethenhe’sgone.Mrs.Joneshandsmeacupoftea,and
suddenlyIfeelawkwardwithjustthetwoofushere.
“HowlonghaveyouworkedforChristian?”Iask,thinkingIoughttomake
somekindofconversation.
“Fouryearsorso,”shesayspleasantly,asshesetsaboutmakingmypacked
lunch.
“Youknow,Icandothat,”Imutter,embarrassedthatsheshouldbedoingthis
forme.
“Youeatyourbreakfast,Ana.ThisiswhatIdo.Ienjoyit.It’snicetolook
aftersomeoneotherthanMr.TaylorandMr.Grey.”Shesmilesverysweetly
atme.
Mycheekspinkwithpleasure,andIwanttobombardthiswomanwith
questions.ShemustknowsomuchaboutFifty,andalthoughhermanneris
warmandfriendly,it’salsoveryprofessional.IknowI’llonlyembarrassboth
ofusifIstartquizzingher,soIfinishmybreakfastinareasonably
comfortablesilence,punctuatedonlybyherquestionsonmyfoodpreferences
forlunch.
Twenty-fiveminuteslaterSawyerappearsattheentrancetothegreatroom.I
havebrushedmyteeth,andI’mwaitingtogo.Clutchingmybrownpaper
lunchbag—Ican’tevenremembermymomdoingthisforme—SawyerandI
headtothefirstfloorviatheelevator.He’sverytaciturn,too,givingnothing
away.TayloriswaitingintheAudi,andIclimbintotherearpassengerseat
whenSawyeropensthedoor.
“Goodmorning,Taylor,”Isaybrightly.
“MissSteele.”Hesmiles.
“Taylor,I’msorryaboutyesterdayandmyinappropriateremarks.IhopeI
didn’tgetyouintotrouble.”
Taylorfrownsinbemusementatmefromtherear-viewmirrorashepullsout
intotheSeattletraffic.
“MissSteele,I’mrarelyintrouble,”hesaysreassuringly.
Ohgood.MaybeChristiandidn’ttellhimoff.Justme,then,Ithinksourly.
“I’mgladtohearit,Taylor.”Ismile.
Jackgazesatme,assessingmyappearance,asImakemywaytomydesk.
“Morning,Ana.Goodweekend?”
“Yes,thanks.You?”
“Itwasgood.Getsettledin—Ihaveworkforyoutodo.”
Inodandsitdownatmycomputer.ItseemslikeyearssinceIwasatwork.I
switchonmycomputerandfireupmye-mailprogram—andofcoursethere’s
ane-mailfromChristian.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Boss
Date:June13,201108:24
To:AnastasiaSteele
Goodmorning,MissSteele
Ijustwantedtosaythankyouforawonderfulweekendinspiteofallthe
drama.
Ihopeyouneverleave,ever.
AndjusttoremindyouthatthenewsofSIPisembargoedforfourweeks.
Deletethise-mailassoonasyou’vereadit.
Yours
ChristianGrey,
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.&Yourboss’sboss’sboss.
HopeIneverleave?Doeshewantmetomovein?HolyMoses…Ibarely
knowtheman.
Ipressdelete.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Bossy
Date:June13,2011:09:03
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
Areyouaskingmetomoveinwithyou?Andofcourse,Irememberedthat
theevidenceofyourepicstalkingcapabilitiesisembargoedforanotherfour
weeks.DoImakeacheckouttoCopingTogetherandsendtoyourdad?
Pleasedon’tdeletethise-mail.Pleaserespondtoit.
ILYxxx
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
“Ana!”Jackmakesmejump.
“Yes,”Iflush,andJackfrownsatme.
“Everythingokay?”
“Sure.”Iscrambleupandtakemynotebookintohisoffice.
“Good.Asyouprobablyremember,I’mgoingtothatCommissioningFiction
SymposiuminNewYorkonThursday.Ihaveticketsandreservations,butI’d
likeyoutocomewithme.”
“ToNewYork?”
“Yes.We’llneedtogoWednesdayandstayovernight.Ithinkyou’llfindita
veryeducationalexperience.”Hiseyesdarkenashesaysthis,buthissmileis
polite.“Wouldyoumakethenecessarytravelarrangements?Andbookan
additionalroomatthehotelwhereIamstaying?IthinkSabrina,myprevious
PA,leftallthedetailshandysomewhere.”
“Okay.”IsmilewanlyatJack.
Crap.Iwanderbacktomydesk.ThisisnotgoingtogodownwellwithFifty
—butthefactis,Iwanttogo.Itsoundslikearealopportunity,andI’msureI
cankeepJackatarm’slengthifthat’shisulteriormotive.Backatmydesk
there’saresponsefromChristian.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Me,Bossy?
Date:June13,201109:07
To:AnastasiaSteele
Yes.Please.
ChristianGrey,
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Jeez…hedoeswantmetomovein.Oh,Christian—it’stoosoon.Iputmy
headinmyhandstotryandrecovermywits.ThisisallIneedaftermy
extraordinaryweekend.Ihaven’thadamomenttomyselftothinkthrough
andunderstandallthatIhaveexperiencedanddiscoveredtheselasttwodays.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Flynnisms
Date:June13,2011:09:20
To:ChristianGrey
Christian
Whathappenedtowalkingbeforewerun?
Canwetalkaboutthistonight,please?
I’vebeenaskedtogotoaconferenceinNewYorkonThursday.
ItmeansanovernightstayonWednesday.
Justthoughtyoushouldknow.
Ax
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:WHAT?
Date:June13,201109:21
To:AnastasiaSteele
Yes.Let’stalkthisevening.
Areyougoingonyourown?
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:NoBoldShoutyCapitalsonaMondayMorning!
Date:June13,2011:09:30
To:ChristianGrey
Canwetalkaboutthistonight?
Ax
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:YouHaven’tSeenShoutyYet.
Date:June13,201109:35
To:AnastasiaSteele
Tellme.
Ifit’swiththesleazeballyouworkwith,thentheanswerisno,overmydead
body.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Myheartsinks.Shit—it’slikehe’smydad.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:NoYOUhaven’tseenshoutyyet.
Date:June13,201109:46
To:ChristianGrey
Yes.ItiswithJack.
Iwanttogo.It’sanexcitingopportunityforme.
AndIhaveneverbeentoNewYork.
Don’tgetyourknickersinatwist.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:NoYOUhaven’tseenshoutyyet.
Date:June13,201109:50
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia
It’snotmyfuckingknickersIamworriedabout.
TheanswerisNO.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
“No!”Ishoutatmycomputer,causingtheentireofficetocometoastandstill
andstareatme.Jackpeersoutfromhisoffice.
“Everythingallright,Ana?”
“Yes.Sorry,”Imutter.“Ier…justdidn’tsaveadocument.”Iamscarletwith
embarrassment.Hesmilesatmebutwithapuzzledexpression.Itakeseveral
deepbreathsandquicklytypearesponse.Iamsomad.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:FiftyShades
Date:June13,201109:55
To:ChristianGrey
Christian
Youneedtogetagrip.
IamNOTgoingtosleepwithJack—notforalltheteainChina.
ILOVEyou.That’swhathappenswhenpeopleloveeachother.
TheyTRUSTeachother.
Idon’tthinkyouaregoingtoSLEEPWITH,SPANK,FUCK,orWHIP
anyoneelse.IhaveFAITHandTRUSTinyou.
PleaseextendthesameCOURTESYtome.
Ana
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
Isitwaitingforhisresponse.Nothingarrives.Icalltheairlineandbooka
ticketformyself,ensuringIamonthesameflightasJack.Ihearthepingof
newmail.
From:Lincoln,Elena
Subject:LunchDate
Date:June13,201110:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
Iwouldreallyliketohavelunchwithyou.Ithinkwegotoffonthewrong
foot,andI’dliketomakethatright.Areyoufreesometimethisweek?
ElenaLincoln
Holycrap—notMrs.Robinson!Howthehelldidshefindoutmye-mail
address?Iputmyheadinmyhands.Canthisdaygetanyworse?
MyphoneringsandwearilyIliftmyheadfrommyhandsandanswer,
glancingattheclock.Itisonlytentwenty,andalreadyIwishIhadn’tleft
Christian’sbed.
“JackHyde’soffice,AnaSteelespeaking.”
Anachinglyfamiliarvoicesnarlsatme,“Willyoupleasedeletethelaste-
mailyousentmeandtrytobealittlemorecircumspectinthelanguageyou
useinyourworke-mail?
Itoldyou,thesystemismonitored.Ishallendeavourtodosomedamage
limitationfromhere.”Hehangsup.
Holyfuck…Isitstaringatthephone.Christianhunguponme.Thatmanis
stompingallovermyfledglingcareer,andhehangsuponme?Iglareatthe
receiver,andifitwasn’tcompletelyinanimate,Iknowitwouldshrivelin
horrorundermywitheringstare.
Iopenmye-mailsanddeletetheoneIsenthim.It’snotthatbad.Ijust
mentionspankingandwell,whipping.Jeez,ifhe’ssoashamedofit,hedamn
wellshouldn’tdoit.IpickupmyBlackberryandcallhismobile.
“What?”hesnaps.
“IamgoingtoNewYorkwhetheryoulikeitornot,”Ihiss.
“Don’tcount—”
Ihangup,cuttinghimoffmid-sentence.Adrenalineiscoursingthroughmy
body.
There—thattoldhim.Iamsomad.
Itakeadeepbreath,tryingtocomposemyself.Closingmyeyes,Iimagine
thatIaminmyhappyplace.Hmm…aboatcabinwithChristian.Ishakethe
imageoffasIamtoomadatFiftyrightnowforhimtobeanywherenearmy
happyplace.
Openingmyeyes,Icalmlyreachformynotebookandcarefullyrunthrough
mytodolist.Itakealong,deepbreath,myequilibriumrestored.
“Ana!”Jackshouts,startlingme.“Don’tbookthatflight!”
“Oh,toolate.I’vedoneit,”Ireplyashestridesoutofhisofficeovertome.
Helooksmad.“Look,there’ssomethinggoingon.Forsomereason,
suddenly,alltravelandhotelexpensesforstaffhavetobeapprovedbysenior
management.Thishascomerightfromthetop.Iamgoinguptoseeold
Roach.Apparently,amoratoriumonallspendinghasjustbeenimplemented.
Idon’tunderstandit.”Jackpinchesthebridgeofhisnoseandcloseshiseyes.
Mostoftheblooddrainsfrommyfaceandknotsforminmystomach.Fifty!
“Takemycalls.I’llgoseewhatRoachhastosay.”Hewinksatmeandstrides
offtoseehisboss—nottheboss’sboss.
Damnit.ChristianGrey…Mybloodstartstoboilagain.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Whathaveyoudone?
Date:June13,201110:43
To:ChristianGrey
Pleasetellmeyouwon’tinterferewithmywork.
Ireallywanttogotothisconference.
Ishouldn’thavetoaskyou.
Ihavedeletedtheoffendinge-mail.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Whathaveyoudone?
Date:June13,201110:46
To:AnastasiaSteele
Iamjustprotectingwhatismine.
Thee-mailthatyousorashlysentiswipedfromtheSIPservernow,asare
mye-mailstoyou.
Incidentally,Itrustyouimplicitly.It’shimIdon’ttrust.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
IchecktoseeifIstillhavehise-mails,andtheyhavedisappeared.This
man’sinfluenceknowsnobounds.Howdoeshedothis?Whodoesheknow
thatcanstealthilydelveintothedepthsofSIP’sserversandremovee-mails?I
amsooutofmyleaguehere.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:GrownUp
Date:June13,201110:43
To:ChristianGrey
Christian
Idon’tneedprotectingfrommyownboss.
Hemaymakeapassatme,butIshallsayno.
Youcannotinterfere.It’swrongandcontrollingonsomanylevels.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:TheAnswerisNO
Date:June13,201110.50
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ana
Ihaveseenhow“effective”youareatfightingoffunwantedattention.I
rememberthat’showIhadthepleasureofspendingmyfirstnightwithyou.
Atleastthephotographerhasfeelingsforyou.Thesleazeball,ontheother
hand,doesnot.Heisaserialphilanderer,andhewilltrytoseduceyou.Ask
himwhathappenedtohispreviousPAandtheonebeforethat.
Idon’twanttofightaboutthis.
IfyouwanttogotoNewYork,I’lltakeyou.Wecangothisweekend.Ihave
anapartmentthere.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Oh,Christian!That’snotthepoint.He’ssodamnfrustrating.Andofcourse
hehasanapartmentthere.Whereelsedoesheownproperty?Trusthimto
bringupJosé.WillIeverlivethatdown?Iwasdrunk,forheaven’ssake.I
wouldn’tgetdrunkwithJack.
Ishakemyheadatthescreen,butfigureIcannotcontinuetoarguewithhim
overe-mail.Ishallhavetobidemytimeuntilthisevening.Ichecktheclock.
JackisstillnotbackfromhismeetingwithJerry,andIneedtodealwith
Elena.Ireadhere-mailagainanddecidethatthebestwaytohandleitisto
sendittoChristian.Lethimconcentrateonherratherthanme.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:FWLunchdateorIrritatingBaggage
Date:June13,201111:15
To:ChristianGrey
Christian
Whileyouhavebeenbusyinterferinginmycareerandsavingyourassfrom
mycarelessmissives,Ireceivedthefollowinge-mailfromMrs.Lincoln.I
reallydon’twanttomeetwithher—evenifIdid,Iamnotallowedtoleave
thisbuilding.Howshegotholdofmye-mailaddress,Idon’tknow.What
wouldyousuggestIdo?Here-mailisbelow:DearAnastasia,Iwouldreally
liketohavelunchwithyou.Ithinkwegotoffonthewrongfoot,andI’dlike
tomakethatright.Areyoufreesometimethisweek?
ElenaLincoln
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:IrritatingBaggage
Date:June13,201111:23
To:AnastasiaSteele
Don’tbemadatme.Ihaveyourbestinterestsatheart.
Ifanythinghappenedtoyou,Iwouldneverforgivemyself.
I’lldealwithMrs.Lincoln.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Laters
Date:June13,2011:11:32
To:ChristianGrey
Canwepleasediscussthistonight?
Iamtryingtowork,andyourcontinuedinterferenceisverydistracting.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
JackreturnsaftermiddayandtellsmethatNewYorkisoffformethoughhe
isstillgoingandthere’snothinghecandotochangeseniormanagement
policy.Hestridesintohisoffice,slammingthedoor,obviouslyfurious.Why
ishesoangry?
Deepdown,Iknowhisintentionsarelessthanhonourable,butIamsureI
candealwithhim,andIwonderwhatChristianknowsaboutJack’sprevious
PAs.Iparkthesethoughtsandcontinuewithsomework,butresolvetotryto
makeChristianchangehismind,thoughtheprospectsarebleak.
Atoneo’clock,Jackpokeshisheadoutoftheofficedoor.
“Ana,pleasecouldyougoandgetmesomelunch?”
“Sure.Whatwouldyoulike?”
“Pastramionrye,holdthemustard.I’llgiveyouthemoneywhenyou’re
back.”
“Anythingtodrink?”
“Coke,please.Thanks,Ana.”HeheadsbackintohisofficeasIreachformy
purse.
Crap.IpromisedChristianIwouldn’tgoout.Isigh.He’llneverknow,and
I’llbequick.
Clairefromreceptionoffersmeherumbrellasinceitisstillpouringwithrain.
AsIheadoutofthefrontdoors,Ipullmyjacketaroundmeandtakeafurtive
glanceinbothdirectionsfrombeneaththeoverlargegolfumbrella.Nothing
seemsamiss.There’snosignofGhostGirl.
Imarchbriskly,andIhopeinconspicuously,downtheblocktothedeli.
However,thecloserIgettothedeli,themoreIhaveacreepysensethatIam
beingwatched,andIdon’tknowifit’smyheightenedfeelingofparanoiaora
reality.Shit.Ihopeit’snotLeilawithagun.
It’sjustyourimagination,mysubconscioussnaps.Whothehellwouldwant
toshootyou?
Withinfifteenminutes,Iamback—safe,soundbutrelieved.Ithink
Christian’sextremeparanoiaandhisoverprotectivevigilanceisbeginningto
gettome.
AsItakeJack’slunchintohim,heglancesupfromthephone.
“Ana,thanks.Sinceyou’renotcomingwithme,I’mgoingtoneedyouto
worklate.
Weneedtogetthesebriefsready.Hopeyoudon’thaveplans.”Hesmilesup
atmewarmly,andIflush.
“No,that’sfine,”Isaywithabrightsmileandasinkingheart.Thisisnot
goingtogodownwell.Christianwillfreak,I’msure.
AsIheadbacktomydeskIdecidenottotellhimimmediately,otherwisehe
mighthavetimetointerfereinsomeway.Isitandeatthechickensalad
sandwichMrs.Jonesmadeforme.It’sdelicious.Shemakesamean
sandwich.
Ofcourse,ifImovedinwithChristian,shewouldmakelunchformeevery
weekday.
Theideaisunsettling.Ihaveneverhaddreamsofobscenewealthandallthe
trappings—
onlylove.Tofindsomeonewholovesmeanddoesn’ttrytocontrolmyevery
move.Thephonerings.
“JackHyde’soffice—”
“Youassuredmeyouwouldn’tgoout,”Christianinterruptsme,hisvoice
coldandhard.Myheartsinksforthemillionthtimethisday.Shit.Howthe
helldoesheknow?
“Jacksentmeoutforsomelunch.Icouldn’tsayno.Areyouhavingme
watched?”Myscalppricklesatthenotion.NowonderIfeltsoparanoid—
someonewaswatchingme.Thethoughtmakesmeangry.
“ThisiswhyIdidn’twantyougoingbacktowork,”Christiansnaps.
“Christian,please.You’rebeing”—SoFifty—“sosuffocating.”
“Suffocating?”hewhispers,surprised.
“Yes.Youhavetostopthis.I’lltalktoyouthisevening.Unfortunately,Ihave
toworklatebecauseIcan’tgotoNewYork.”
“Anastasia,Idon’twanttosuffocateyou,”hesaysquietly,appalled.
“Well,youare.Ihaveworktodo.I’lltalktoyoulater.”Ihangup,feeling
drainedandvaguelydepressed.
Afterourwonderfulweekend,therealityishittinghome.Ihaveneverfelt
morelikerunning.RunningtosomequietretreatsoIcanthinkaboutthis
man,abouthowheis,andabouthowtodealwithhim.Ononelevel,Iknow
he’sbroken—Icanseethatclearlynow—andit’sbothheart-breakingand
exhausting.Fromthesmallpiecesofpreciousinformationthathe’sgivenme
abouthislife,Iunderstandwhy.Anunlovedchild;ahideouslyabusive
environment;amotherwhocouldn’tprotecthim,whomhecouldn’tprotect,
andwhodiedinfrontofhim.
Ishudder.MypoorFifty.Iamhis,butnottobekeptinsomegildedcage.
HowamIgoingtomakehimseethis?
Withaheavyheart,IdragoneofthemanuscriptsJackwantsmeto
summarizeintomylapandcontinuetoread.Icanthinkofnoeasysolutionto
Christian’sfucked-upcontrolissues.Iwilljusthavetotalktohimlater,face
toface.
Halfanhourlater,Jacke-mailsmeadocumentthatIneedtotidyupand
polish,readyforprintingtomorrowintimeforhisconference.Itwilltakeme
notjusttherestoftheafternoonbutwellintotheevening,too.Isettowork.
WhenIlookup,it’saftersevenandtheofficeisdeserted,thoughthelightin
Jack’sofficeisstillon.Ihadn’tnoticedeveryoneleaving,butIamnearly
finished.Ie-mailthedocumentbacktoJackforhisapprovalandcheckmy
inbox.There’snothingnewfromChristian,soIquicklyglanceatmy
Blackberry,anditstartlesmebybuzzing—it’sChristian.“Hi,”Imurmur.
“Hi,whenwillyoubefinished?”
“Byseventhirty,Ithink.”
“I’llmeetyououtside.”
“Okay.”
Hesoundsquiet,nervouseven.Why?Waryofmyreaction?
“I’mstillmadatyou,butthat’sall,”Iwhisper.“Wehavealottotalkabout.”
“Iknow.Seeyouatseventhirty.”
Jackcomesoutofhisoffice.
“Ihavetogo.Seeyoulater.”Ihangup.
IlookupatJackashestrollscasuallytowardme.
“Ijustneedacoupleoftweaks.I’vee-mailedthebriefbacktoyou.”
HeleansovermewhileIretrievethedocument,ratherclose—uncomfortably
close.
Hisarmbrushesmine.Accidentally?Iflinch,buthepretendsnottonotice.
Hisotherarmrestsonthebackofmychair,touchingmyback.IsitupsoI’m
notleaningagainstthebackrest.
“Pagessixteenandtwenty-three,andthatshouldbeit,”hemurmurs,his
mouthinchesfrommyear.
Myskincrawlsathisproximity,butIchoosetoignoreit.Openingthe
document,Ishakilystartonthechanges.He’sstillleaningoverme,andall
mysensesarehyperaware.
It’sdistractingandawkward,andinsideIamscreaming,Backoff!
“Oncethisisdone,it’llbegoodtogotoprint.Youcanorganizethat
tomorrow.Thankyouforstayinglateanddoingthis,Ana.”Hisvoiceis
smooth,gentle,likehe’stalkingtoawoundedanimal.Mystomachtwists.
“IthinktheleastIcoulddoisrewardyouwithaquickdrink.Youdeserve
one.”Hetucksastrandofmyhairthat’scomeloosefrommyhairtiebehind
myearandgentlycaressesthelobe.
Icringegrittingmyteeth,andIjerkmyheadaway.Shit!Christianwasright.
Don’ttouchme.
“Actually,Ican’tthisevening.”Oranyotherevening,Jack.
“Justaquickone?”hecoaxes.
“No,Ican’t.Butthankyou.”
Jacksitsontheendofmydeskandfrowns.Alarmbellssoundloudlyinmy
head.Iamonmyownintheoffice.Icannotleave.Iglancenervouslyatthe
clock.AnotherfiveminutesbeforeChristianisdue.
“Ana,Ithinkwemakeagreatteam.I’msorrythatIcouldn’tpulloffthis
NewYorktrip.Itwon’tbethesamewithoutyou.”
I’msureitwon’t.Ismileweaklyupathim,becauseIcan’tthinkofwhatto
say.Andforthefirsttimeallday,IfeelthetiniesthintofreliefthatIamnot
going.
“So,didyouhaveagoodweekend?”heaskssmoothly.
“Yes,thanks.”Whereishegoingwiththis?
“Seeyourboyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Whatdoeshedo?”
Ownsyourass…“He’sinbusiness.”
“That’sinteresting.Whatkindofbusiness?”
“Oh,hehashisfingersinallsortsofpies.”
Jackcockshisheadtoonesideasheleansintowardme,invadingmy
personalspace—
again.
“You’rebeingverycoy,Ana.”
“Well,he’sintelecommunications,manufacturing,andagriculture.”
Jackraiseshiseyebrows.“Somanythings.Whodoesheworkfor?”
“Heworksforhimself.Ifyou’rehappywiththedocument,I’dliketogo,if
that’sokay?”
Heleansback.Mypersonalspaceissafeagain.
“Ofcourse.Sorry,Ididn’tmeantokeepyou,”hesaysdisingenuously.
“Whattimedoesthebuildingclose?”
“Securityishereuntileleven.”
“Good.”Ismile,andmysubconsciousflopsdowninherarmchair,relievedto
knowthatwearenotaloneinthebuilding.Switchingoffmycomputer,Igrab
mypurseandstandup,readytoleave.
“Youlikehimthen?Yourboyfriend?”
“Ilovehim,”Ianswer,lookingJacksquarelyintheeye.
“Isee.”Jackfrownsandhestandsupfrommydesk.“What’shissurname?”
Iflush.
“Grey.ChristianGrey,”Imumble.
Jack’smouthdropsopen.“Seattle’srichestbachelor?ThatChristianGrey?”
“Yes.Thesame.”Yes,thatChristianGrey,yourfuturebosswhowillhave
youforbreakfastifyouinvademypersonalspaceagain.
“Ithoughthelookedfamiliar,”Jacksaysdarklyandhisbrowcreasesagain.
“Well,he’saluckyman.”
Iblinkathim.WhatdoIsaytothat?
“Haveagoodevening,Ana.”Jacksmiles,butthesmiledoesn’ttouchhis
eyes,andhewalksstifflybackintohisofficewithoutabackwardglance.
Iletoutalongsighofrelief.Well,thatproblemmightbesolved.Fiftyworks
hismagicagain.Justhisnameismytalisman,andithasthismanretreating
withhistailbetweenhislegs.Iallowmyselfasmallvictorioussmile.You
see,Christian?Evenyournameprotectsme—youdidn’thavetogotoallthat
troubleofclampingdownonexpenses.Itidymydeskandcheckmywatch.
Christianshouldbeoutside.
TheAudiisparkedupagainstthesidewalk,andTaylorleapsouttoopenthe
rearpassengerdoor.Ihaveneverbeensopleasedtoseehim,andIscramble
intothecaroutoftherain.Christianisintherearseat,gazingatme,hiseyes
wideandwary.He’sbracinghimselfformyanger,hisjawtightandtense.
“Hi,”Imurmur.
“Hi,”herepliescautiously.Hereachesoverandgraspsmyhand,squeezingit
tightly,andmyheartthawsalittle.I’msoconfused.Ihaven’tevenworked
outwhatIneedtosaytohim.
“Areyoustillmad?”heasks.
“Idon’tknow,”Imurmur.Heraisesmyhandandlightlygrazesmyknuckles
withsoftbutterflykisses.
“It’sbeenashittyday,”hesays.
“Yes,ithas.”Butforthefirsttimesinceheleftforworkthismorning,Ibegin
torelax.
Justbeinginhiscompanyisasoothingbalm,andalltheshitfromJack,and
thesnarkye-mailstoandfro,andthenuisancethatisElenafadeintothe
background.It’sjustmeandmycontrolfreakinthebackofthecar.
“It’sbetternowthatyou’rehere,”hemurmurs.WesitinsilenceasTaylor
weavesthroughtheeveningtraffic,bothofusbroodingandcontemplative;
butIfeelChristianslowlyunwindbesidemeashe,too,relaxes,gently
runninghisthumbacrossmyknucklesinasoft,soothingrhythm.
Taylordropsusoutsidetheapartmentbuilding,andwebothduckinside,out
oftherain.Christianclaspsmyhandaswewaitfortheelevator,hiseyes
scanningthefrontofthebuilding.
“Itakeityouhaven’tfoundLeilayet.”
“No.Welchisstilllookingforher,”hemuttersdespondently.
Theelevatorarrivesandinwestep.Christianglancesdownatme,hisgrey
eyesunreadable.Oh,hejustlooksglorious—tousledhair,whiteshirt,dark
suit.Andsuddenlyit’sthere,fromnowhere,thatfeeling.Ohmy—thelonging,
thelust,theelectricity.Ifitwerevisible,itwouldbeanintenseblueaura
aroundandbetweenusit’ssostrong.Hislipspartashegazesatme.
“Doyoufeelit?”hebreathes.
“Yes.”
“Oh,Ana.”Hegroansandhegrabsme,hisarmssnakingaroundme,one
handatthenapeofmyneck,tippingmyheadbackashislipsfindmine.My
fingersareinhishairandcaressinghischeekashepushesmebackagainst
theelevatorwall.
“Ihatearguingwithyou,”hebreathesagainstmymouth,andthere’sa
desperate,passionatequalitytohiskissthatmirrorsmine.Desireexplodesin
mybody,allthetensionofthedayseekinganoutlet,strainingagainsthim,
seekingmore.We’realltonguesandbreathingandhandsandtouchand
sweet,sweetsensation.Hishandisonmyhip,andabruptlyhe’spullingup
myskirt,hisfingersstrokingmythighs.
“SweetJesus,you’rewearingstockings.”Hemoansinappreciativeaweashis
thumbcaressesthefleshabovemystockingline.“Iwanttoseethis,”he
breathes,andhepullsmyskirtrightup,exposingthetopsofmythighs.
Steppingback,hereachesovertopressthestopbutton,andtheelevator
coastssmoothlytoahaltbetweenthetwenty-secondandtwenty-thirdfloors.
Hiseyesaredark,lipsparted,andhe’sbreathingashardasamI.Wegazeat
eachother,nottouching.Iamgratefulforthewallagainstmyback,holding
meupwhileIbaskinthisbeautifulman’ssensual,carnalappraisal.
“Takeyourhairdown,”heorders,hisvoicehusky.Ireachupandundothe
tie,releasingmyhairsoittumblesinathickcloudaroundmyshouldersto
mybreasts.“Undothetoptwobuttonsofyourshirt,”hewhispers,hiseyes
wildernow.
Hemakesmefeelsowanton.Myinnergoddessiswrithingonherchaise
longue,waiting,wanting,andpanting.Ireachupandundoeachbutton,
achingly,slowly,sothatthetopsofmybreastsaretantalizinglyrevealed.
Heswallows.“Doyouhaveanyideahowalluringyoulookrightnow?”
Verydeliberately,Ibitemylipandshakemyhead.Hecloseshiseyesbriefly,
andwhenheopensthemagain,theyareblazing.Hestepsforwardandplaces
hishandsontheelevatorwallsoneithersideofmyface.He’sascloseashe
canbewithouttouchingme.
Itipmyfaceuptomeethisgaze,andheleansdownandrunshisnoseagainst
mine,soit’stheonlycontactbetweenus.Iamsohotintheconfinesofthis
elevatorwithhim.Iwanthim—now.
“Ithinkyoudo,MissSteele.Ithinkyouliketodrivemewild.”
“DoIdriveyouwild?”Iwhisper.
“Inallthings,Anastasia.Youareasiren,agoddess.”Andhereachesforme,
graspingmylegabovemykneeandhitchingitaroundhiswaist,sothatIam
standingononeleg,leaningintohim.Ifeelhimagainstme,feelhimhardand
wantingabovetheapexofmythighsasherunshislipsdownmythroat.I
moanandwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck.
“I’mgoingtotakeyounow,Anastasia,”hebreathesandIarchmybackin
response,pressingmyselfagainsthim,eagerforthefriction.Hegroansdeep
andlowinthebackofhisthroatandboostsmehigherasheundoeshisfly.
“Holdtight,baby,”hemurmurs,andmagicallyproducesafoilpacketthathe
holdsinfrontofmymouth.Itakeitbetweenmyteeth,andhetugs,sothat
betweenus,weripitopen.“Goodgirl.”Hestepsbackafractionasheslides
onthecondom.“God,Ican’twaitforthenextsixdays,”hegrowlsandgazes
downatmethroughhoodedeyes.“Idohopeyou’renotoverlyfondofthese
panties.”Hetearsthroughthemwithhisadeptfingers,andtheydisintegrate
inhishands.Mybloodispoundingthroughmyveins.Iampantingwith
need.
Hiswordsareintoxicating,allmyangstfromthedayforgotten.It’sjusthim
andme,doingwhatwedobest.Withouttakinghiseyesoffmine,hesinks
slowlyintome.MybodybowsandItiltmyheadback,closingmyeyes,
relishingthefeelofhiminsideme.Hepullsbackandthenmovesintome
again,soslow,sosweet.Igroan.
“You’remine,Anastasia,”hemurmursagainstmythroat.
“Yes.Yours.Whenwillyouacceptthat?”Ipant.Hegroansandstartsto
move,reallymove.AndIsurrendermyselftohisrelentlessrhythm,savouring
eachpushandpull,hisraggedbreathing,hisneedforme,reflectingmine.
Itmakesmefeelpowerful,strong,desiredandloved—lovedbythis
captivating,complicatedman,whomIloveinreturnwithallmyheart.He
pushesharderandharder,hisbreathingragged,losinghimselfinmeasIlose
myselfinhim.
“Oh,baby,”Christianmoans,histeethgrazingmyjaw,andIcomehard
aroundhim.
Hestills,clutchesme,andfollowssuit,whisperingmyname.
NowthatChristianisspent,calmandkissingmegently,hisbreathingeases.
Heholdsmeuprightagainsttheelevatorwall,ourforeheadspressedtogether,
andmybodyislikejelly,weakbutgratifyinglysatedfrommyclimax.
“Oh,Ana,”hemurmurs.“Ineedyousomuch.”Hekissesmyforehead.
“AndIyou,Christian.”
Releasingme,hestraightensmyskirtanddoesupthetwobuttonsonmy
shirt,thenpunchesthecombinationintothekeypadthatstartstheelevator
again.ItriseswithajoltsothatIreachoutandclasphisarms.
“Taylorwillbewonderingwhereweare,”hegrinslasciviouslyatme.
Ohcrap.Idragmyfingersthroughmyhairinavainattempttocombatthe
just-fuckedlook,thengiveupandtieitinaponytail.
“You’lldo.”Christiansmirksashedoesuphisflyandputsthecondominhis
pantspocket.
OncemorehelookstheembodimentofanAmericanentrepreneur,andsince
hishairlooksjustfuckedmostofthetime,there’sverylittledifference.
Exceptnowhe’ssmiling,relaxed,hiseyescrinklingwithboyishcharm.Are
allmenthiseasilyplacated?
Tayloriswaitingwhenthedoorsopen.
“Problemwiththeelevator,”Christianmurmursaswebothstepout,andI
cannotlookeitherofthemintheface.Iscurrythroughthedoubledoorsto
Christian’sbedroominsearchofsomefreshunderwear.
WhenIreturn,Christianhasremovedhisjacketandissittingatthebreakfast
barchattingwithMrs.Jones.Shesmileskindlyatmeassheputsouttwo
platesofhotfoodforus.
Mmm,itsmellsdelicious—coqauvin,ifIamnotmistaken.Iamfamished.
“Enjoy,Mr.Grey,Ana,”shesaysandleavesustoit.
Christianfetchesabottleofwhitewinefromthefridge,andaswesitandeat,
hetellsmeabouthowmuchnearerhe’sgettingtoperfectingasolar-powered
mobilephone.He’sanimatedandexcitedaboutthewholeproject,andIknow
thenthathehasn’thadanentirelyshittyday.
Iaskhimabouthisproperties.Hesmirks,anditturnsoutheonlyhasthe
apartmentinNewYorkandAspen,andEscala.Nothingelse.Whenwe’re
done,Icollecthisplateandmineandtakethemtosink.
“Leavethat.Gailwilldoit,”hesays.Iturnandgazeathim,andhe’s
watchingmeintently.WillIevergetusedtohavingsomeonecleanupafter
me?
“Well,nowthatyouaremoredocile,MissSteele,shallwetalkabouttoday?”
“Ithinkyou’retheonewho’smoredocile.IthinkI’mdoingagoodjobin
tamingyou.”
“Tamingme?”hesnorts,amused.WhenInod,hefrownsasifreflectingon
mywords.
“Yes.Maybeyouare,Anastasia.”
“YouwererightaboutJack,”Imurmur,seriousnow,andIleanacrossthe
kitchenislandgauginghisreaction.Christian’sfacefallsandhiseyesharden.
“Hashetriedanything?”hewhispers,hisvoicedeathlycold.
Ishakemyheadtoreassurehim.“No,andhewon’t,Christian.Itoldhim
todaythatI’myourgirlfriend,andhebackedrightoff.”
“You’resure?Icouldfirethefucker.”Christianscowls.
Isigh,emboldenedbymyglassofwine.“Youreallyhavetoletmefightmy
ownbattles.Youcan’tconstantlysecond-guessmeandtrytoprotectme.It’s
stifling,Christian.
I’llneverflourishwithyourincessantinterference.Ineedsomefreedom.I
wouldn’tdreamofmeddlinginyouraffairs.”
Heblinksatme.“Ionlywantyousafe,Anastasia.Ifanythinghappenedto
you,I—”
Hestops.
“Iknow,andIunderstandwhyyoufeelsodriventoprotectme.Andpartof
melovesit.IknowthatifIneedyou,you’llbethere,asIamforyou.Butif
wearetohaveanyhopeofafuturetogether,youhavetotrustmeandtrust
myjudgment.Yes,I’llgetitwrongsometimes—I’llmakemistakes,butI
havetolearn.”
Hestaresatme,hisexpressionanxious,spurringmetowalkroundtohimso
thatIamstandingbetweenhislegswhilehesitsonthebarstool.Grabbinghis
hands,Iputthemaroundmeandplacemyhandsonhisarms.
“Youcan’tinterfereinmyjob.It’swrong.Idon’tneedyoucharginginlikea
whiteknighttosavetheday.Iknowyouwanttocontroleverything,andI
understandwhy,butyoucan’t.It’sanimpossiblegoal…youhavetolearnto
letgo.”Ireachupandstrokehisfaceashegazesatme,hiseyeswide.“And
ifyoucandothat—givemethat—I’llmoveinwithyou,”Iaddsoftly.
Heinhalessharply,surprised.“You’ddothat?”hewhispers.
“Yes.”
“Butyoudon’tknowme.”Hefrownsandsoundschokedandpanickyallofa
sudden,veryun-Fifty.
“Iknowyouwellenough,Christian.Nothingyoutellmeaboutyourselfwill
frightenmeaway.”Igentlyrunmyknucklesacrosshischeek.Hisexpression
turnsfromanxioustodubious.“Butifyoucouldjusteaseuponme,”Iplead.
“I’mtrying,Anastasia.Icouldn’tjuststandbyandletyougotoNewYork
withthat…
sleazeball.Hehasanalarmingreputation.Noneofhisassistantshavelasted
morethanthreemonths,andthey’reneverretainedbythecompany.Idon’t
wantthatforyou,baby.”
Hesighs.“Idon’twantanythingtohappentoyou.Youbeinghurt…the
thoughtfillsmewithdread.Ican’tpromisenottointerfere,notifIthink
you’llcometoharm.”Hepausesandtakesadeepbreath.“Iloveyou,
Anastasia.Iwilldoeverythinginmypowertoprotectyou.Icannotimagine
mylifewithoutyou.”
Holycow.Myinnergoddess,mysubconscious,andIallgapeatFiftyin
shock.
Jeez,threelittlewords.Myworldstandsstill,tilts,thenspinsonanewaxis;
andIsavourthemoment,gazingintohissincere,beautifulgreyeyes.
“Iloveyou,too,Christian.”Ileanoverandkisshim,andthekissdeepens.
Enteringunseen,Taylorclearshisthroat.Christianpullsback,gazingintently
atme.
Hestands,hisarmaroundmywaist.
“Yes?”hesnapsatTaylor.
“Mrs.Lincolnisonherwayup,sir.”
“What?”
Taylorshrugsapologetically.Christiansighsheavilyandshakeshishead.
“Well,thisshouldbeinteresting,”hemuttersandgivesmeacrookedgrinof
resignation.Fuck!Whycan’tthatdamnedwomanleaveusalone?
“Didyoutalktohertoday?”IaskChristianaswewaitforMrs.Robinson’s
arrival.
“Yes.”
“Whatdidyousay?”
“Isaidthatyoudidn’twanttoseeher,andthatIunderstoodyourreasons
why.IalsotoldherthatIdidn’tappreciatehergoingbehindmyback.”His
gazeisimpassive,givingnothingaway.
Oh,good.“Whatdidshesay?”
“ShebrusheditoffinawaythatonlyElenacan.”Hismouthflattenstoa
crookedline.
“Whydoyouthinkshe’shere?”
“Ihavenoidea.”Christianshrugs.
Taylorentersthegreatroomagain.“Mrs.Lincoln,”heannounces.
Andheresheis…Whyisshesodamnedattractive?She’sdressedentirelyin
black:tightjeans,ashirtthatemphasizesherperfectfigure,andahaloof
bright,glossyhair.
Christianpullsmeclose.“Elena,”hesays,histonepuzzled.
Shegapesatmeinshock,frozentothespot.Sheblinksbeforefindingher
softvoice.
“I’msorry.Ididn’trealizeyouhadcompany,Christian.It’sMonday,”she
saysasifthisexplainswhyshe’shere.
“Girlfriend,”hesaysbywayofexplanationandtiltshisheadtoonesideand
smirks.
Shesmiles,aslow,beamingsmiledirectedentirelyathim.It’sunnerving.
“Ofcourse.Hello,Anastasia.Ididn’tknowyou’dbehere.Iknowyoudon’t
wanttotalktome.Iacceptthat.”
“Doyou?”Iassertquietly,gazingatherandtakingallofusbysurprise.With
aslightfrown,shemovesfartherintotheroom.
“Yes,Igetthemessage.I’mnotheretoseeyou.LikeIsaid,Christianrarely
hascompanyduringtheweek.”Shepauses.“Ihaveaproblem,andIneedto
talktoChristianaboutit.”“Oh?”Christianstraightensup.“Doyouwanta
drink?”
“Yes,please,”shemurmursgratefully.
ChristianfetchesaglasswhileElenaandIstandawkwardlygazingateach
other.Shefidgetswithalargesilverringonhermiddlefinger,whileIdon’t
knowwheretolook.
Finally,shegivesmeasmalltightsmileandapproachesthekitchenisland
andsitsonthebarstoolattheend.Sheobviouslyknowstheplacewelland
feelscomfortablemovingaroundhere.
DoIstay?DoIgo?Oh,thisissodifficult.Mysubconsciousscowlsatthe
womanwithhermosthostileharpyface.
There’ssomuchIwanttosaytothiswoman,andnoneofitcomplimentary.
Butshe’sChristian’sfriend—hisonlyfriend—andforallmyloathingofthis
woman,Iaminnatelypolite.Decidingtostay,IsitasgracefullyasIcan
manageonthestoolChristian’svacated.
Christianpourswineintoeachofourglassesandsitsbetweenusatthe
breakfastbar.Can’thefeelhowweirdthisis?
“What’sup?”heasksher.
Elenalooksnervouslyatme,andChristianreachesoverandclaspsmyhand.
“Anastasia’swithmenow,”hesaystohersilentqueryandsqueezesmyhand.
Iflush,andmysubconsciousbeamsathim,harpyfaceforgotten.
Elena’sfacesoftensasifshe’spleasedforhim.Reallypleasedforhim.Oh,I
don’tunderstandthiswomanatall,andI’muncomfortableandedgyinher
presence.
Shetakesadeepbreathandshifts,perchingontheedgeofherbarstooland
lookingagitated.Sheglancesnervouslydownatherhandsandstarts
manicallytwistingthelargesilverringaroundandaroundonhermiddle
finger.
Jeez,what’swrongwithher?Isitmypresence?DoIhavethateffectonher?
BecauseIfeelthesameway—Idon’twantherhere.Sheraisesherheadand
looksChristiansquarelyintheeye.
“I’mbeingblackmailed.”
Holyshit.NotwhatIexpectedoutofhermouth.Christianstiffens.Has
someonefoundoutaboutherpenchantforbeatingandfuckingunderage
boys?Isuppressmyrevulsion,andafleetingthoughtaboutchickenscoming
hometoroostcrossesmymind.Mysubconsciousrubsherhandstogether
withill-disguisedglee.Good.
“How?”Christianasks,hishorrorclearinhisvoice.
Shereachesintoheroversized,patent-leather,designerpurse,pullsoutanote,
andhandsittohim.
“Putitdown,layitout.”Christianpointstothebreakfastbarcounterwithhis
chin.
“Youdon’twanttotouchit?’
“No.Fingerprints.”
“Christian,youknowIcan’tgotothepolicewiththis.”
WhyamIlisteningtothis?Isshefuckingsomeotherpoorboy?
Shelaysthenoteoutforhim,andhebendstoreadit.
“They’reonlyaskingforfivethousanddollars,”hesaysalmost
absentmindedly.“Anyideawhoitmightbe?Someoneinthecommunity?”
“No,”shesaysinhersoftsweetvoice.
“Linc?”
Linc?Who’sthat?
“What—afterallthistime?Idon’tthinkso,”shegrumbles.
“DoesIsaacknow?”
“Ihaven’ttoldhim.”
Who’sIsaac?
“Ithinkheneedstoknow,”Christiansays.Sheshakesherhead,andnowI
feelI’mintruding.Iwantnoneofthis.Itrytoretrievemyhandfrom
Christian’sgrasp,buthejusttightenshisholdandturnstogazeatme.
“What?”heasks.
“I’mtired.IthinkI’llgotobed.”
Hiseyessearchmine,lookingforwhat?Censure?Acceptance?Hostility?I
keepmyexpressionasblandaspossible.
“Okay,”hesays.“Iwon’tbelong.”
HereleasesmeandIstand.Elenawatchesmewarily.Istaytight-lippedand
returnhergaze,givingnothingaway.
“Goodnight,Anastasia.”Shegivesmeasmallsmile.
“Goodnight,”Imutter,myvoicesoundscold.Iturntoleave.Thetensionis
toomuchformetobear.AsIexittheroomtheycontinuetheirconversation.
“Idon’tthinkthere’sagreatdealIcando,Elena,”Christiansaystoher.“If
it’saquestionofmoney.”Hisvoicetrailsoff.“IcouldaskWelchto
investigate.”
“No,Christian,Ijustwantedtoshare,”shesays.
WhenIamoutoftheroom,Ihearhersay,“Youlookveryhappy.”
“Iam,”Christianresponds.
“Youdeservetobe.”
“Iwishthatweretrue.”
“Christian,”shescolds.
Ifreeze,listeningintently.Ican’thelpit.
“Doessheknowhownegativeyouareaboutyourself?Aboutallyourissues.”
“Sheknowsmebetterthananyone.”
“Ouch!Thathurts.”
“It’sthetruth,Elena.Idon’thavetoplaygameswithher.AndImeanit,leave
heralone.”
“Whatisherproblem?”
“You…Whatwewere.Whatwedid.Shedoesn’tunderstand.”
“Makeherunderstand.”
“It’sinthepast,Elena,andwhywouldIwanttotaintherwithourfucked-up
relationship?She’sgoodandsweetandinnocent,andbysomemiracleshe
lovesme.”
“It’snomiracle,Christian,”Elenascoffsgood-naturedly.“Havealittlefaith
inyourself.Youreallyarequiteacatch.I’vetoldyouoftenenough.Andshe
seemslovely,too.
Strong.Someonetostanduptoyou.”
Ican’thearChristian’sresponse.SoI’mstrong,amI?Icertainlydon’tfeel
thatway.
“Don’tyoumissit?”Elenacontinues.
“What?”
“Yourplayroom.”
Istopbreathing.
“Thatreallyisnoneofyourfuckingbusiness,”Christiansnaps.
Oh.
“I’msorry.”Elenasnortsinsincerely.
“Ithinkyou’dbettergo.Andplease,callbeforeyoucomeagain.”
“Christian,Iamsorry,”shesays,andfromhertone,thistimeshemeansit.
“Sincewhenareyousosensitive?”She’sscoldinghimagain.
“Elena,wehaveabusinessrelationshipwhichhasprofitedusboth
immensely.Let’skeepitthatway.Whatwasbetweenusispartofthepast.
Anastasiaismyfuture,andIwon’tjeopardizeitinanyway,socutthe
fuckingcrap.”
Hisfuture!
“Isee.”
“Look,I’msorryforyourtrouble.Perhapsyoushouldrideitoutandcalltheir
bluff.”
Histoneissofter.
“Idon’twanttoloseyou,Christian.”
“I’mnotyourstolose,Elena,”hesnapsagain.
“That’snotwhatImeant.”
“Whatdidyoumean?”He’sbrusque,angry.
“Look,Idon’twanttoarguewithyou.Yourfriendshipmeansalottome.I’ll
backofffromAnastasia.ButI’mhereifyouneedme.Ialwayswillbe.”
“AnastasiathinksthatyousawmelastSaturday.Youcalled,that’sall.Why
didyoutellherotherwise?”
“Iwantedhertoknowhowupsetyouwerewhensheleft.Idon’twantherto
hurtyou.”
“Sheknows.I’vetoldher.Stopinterfering.Honestly,you’relikeamother
hen.”Christiansoundsmoreresigned,andElenalaughs,butthere’sasadtone
toherlaugh.
“Iknow.I’msorry.YouknowIcareaboutyou.Ineverthoughtyou’dendup
fallinginlove,Christian.It’sverygratifyingtosee.ButIcouldn’tbearitif
shehurtyou.”
“I’lltakemychances,”hesaysdryly.“Nowareyousureyoudon’twant
Welchtosniffaround?”
Shesighsheavily.“Isupposeitwouldn’tdoanyharm.”
“Okay.I’llcallhiminthemorning.”
Ilistentothembickering,tryingtofigurethisout.Theydosoundlikeold
friends,asChristiansays.Justfriends.Andshecaresabouthim—maybetoo
much.Well,whowouldn’t,iftheyknewhim?
“Thankyou,Christian.AndIamsorry.Ididn’tmeantointrude.I’llgo.Next
timeI’llcall.”“Good.”
She’sgoing!Shit!IscamperupthehallwaytoChristian’sbedroomandsit
downonthebed.Christianentersafewmomentslater.
“She’sgone,”hesayswarily,gaugingmyreaction.
Igazeupathim,tryingtoframemyquestion.“Willyoutellmeallabouther?
Iamtryingtounderstandwhyyouthinkshehelpedyou.”Ipause,thinking
carefullyaboutmynextsentence.“Iloatheher,Christian.Ithinkshedidyou
untolddamage.Youhavenofriends.
Didshekeepthemawayfromyou?”
Hesighsandrunshishandthroughhishair.
“Whythefuckdoyouwanttoknowabouther?Wehadaverylong-standing
affair,shebeattheshitoutofmeoften,andIfuckedherinallsortsofways
youcan’tevenimagine,endofstory.”
Ipale.Shit,he’sangry—withme.Iblinkathim.“Whyareyousoangry?”
“Becauseallofthatshitisover!”heshouts,gloweringatme.Hesighsin
exasperationandshakeshishead.
Iblanch.Shit.Ilookdownatmyhands,knottedinmylap.Ijustwantto
understand.
Hesitsdownbesideme.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”heaskswearily.
“Youdon’thavetotellme.Idon’tmeantointrude.”
“Anastasia,it’snotthat.Idon’tliketalkingaboutthisshit.I’velivedina
bubbleforyearswithnothingaffectingmeandnothavingtojustifymyselfto
anyone.She’salwaysbeenthereasaconfidante.Andnowmypastandmy
futurearecollidinginawayIneverthoughtpossible.”
Iglanceathimandhe’sstaringatme,hiseyeswide.
“IneverthoughtIhadafuturewithanyone,Anastasia.Yougivemehopeand
havemethinkingaboutallsortsofpossibilities.”Hedriftsoff.
“Iwaslistening,”Iwhisperandstarebackdownatmyhands.
“What?Toourconversation?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”Hesoundsresigned.
“Shecaresforyou.”
“Yes,shedoes.AndIforherinmyownway,butitdoesn’tcomecloseto
howIfeelaboutyou.Ifthat’swhatthisisabout.”
“I’mnotjealous.”I’mwoundedthathewouldthinkthat—oramI?Shit.
Maybethat’swhatthisis.“Youdon’tloveher,”Imurmur.
Hesighsagain.Hereallyispissed.“Alongtimeago,IthoughtIlovedher,”
hesaysthroughgrittedteeth.
Oh.“WhenwewereinGeorgia…yousaidyoudidn’tloveher.”
“That’sright.”
Ifrown.
“Ilovedyouthen,Anastasia,”hewhispers.“You’retheonlypersonI’dfly
threethousandmilestosee.”
Ohmy.Idon’tunderstand.Hestillwantedmeasasubthen.Myfrown
deepens.
“ThefeelingsIhaveforyouareverydifferentfromanyIeverhadforElena,”
hesaysbywayofexplanation.
“Whendidyouknow?”
Heshrugs.“Ironically,itwasElenawhopointeditouttome.Sheencouraged
metogotoGeorgia.”
Iknewit!IknewitinSavannah.Igazeathim,blankly.
WhatdoImakeofthis?MaybesheisonmysideandjustworriedthatI’ll
hurthim.
Thethoughtispainful.Iwouldneverwanttohurthim.She’sright—he’sbeen
hurtenough.
Perhapsshe’snotsobad.Ishakemyhead.Idon’twanttoaccepthis
relationshipwithher.Idisapprove.Yes,that’swhatthisis.She’san
unsavourycharacterwhopreyedonavulnerableadolescent,robbinghimof
histeenageyears,nomatterwhathesays.
“Soyoudesiredher?Whenyouwereyounger.”
“Yes.”
Oh.
“Shetaughtmeagreatdeal.Shetaughtmetobelieveinmyself.”
Oh.“Butshealsobeattheshitoutofyou.”
Hesmilesfondly.“Yes,shedid.”
“Andyoulikedthat?”
“AtthetimeIdid.”
“Somuchthatyouwantedtodoittoothers?”
Hiseyesgrowwideandserious.“Yes.”
“Didshehelpyouwiththat?”
“Yes.”
“Didshesubforyou?”
“Yes.”
Holyfuck.“Doyouexpectmetolikeher?”Myvoicesoundsbrittleandbitter.
“No.Thoughitwouldmakemylifeahellofaloteasier,”hesayswearily.“I
dounderstandyourreticence.”
“Reticence!Jeez,Christian—ifthatwereyourson,howwouldyoufeel?”
Heblinksatmeasthoughhedoesn’tcomprehendthequestion.Hefrowns.“I
didn’thavetostaywithher.Itwasmychoice,too,Anastasia,”hemurmurs.
Thisisgettingmenowhere.
“Who’sLinc?”
“Herex-husband.”
“LincolnTimber?”
“Theverysame,”hesmirks.
“AndIsaac?”
“Hercurrentsubmissive.”
Ohno.
“He’sinhismid-twenties,Anastasia.Youknow—aconsentingadult,”he
addsquickly,correctlydecipheringmylookofdisgust.
Iflush.“Yourage,”Imutter.
“Look,Anastasia,asIsaidtoher,she’spartofmypast.Youaremyfuture.
Don’tlethercomebetweenus,please.Andquitefrankly,I’mreallyboredof
thissubject.I’mgoingtodosomework.”Hestandsandgazesdownatme.
“Letitgo.Please.”
Istaremulishlyupathim.
“Oh,Ialmostforgot,”headds.“Yourcararrivedadayearly.It’sinthe
garage.Taylorhasthekey.”
Whoa…theSaab?“CanIdriveittomorrow?”
“No.”
“Whynot?”
“Youknowwhynot.Andthatremindsme.Ifyouaregoingtoleaveyour
office,letmeknow.Sawyerwasthere,watchingyou.ItseemsIcan’ttrust
youtolookafteryourselfatall.”Hescowlsdownatme,makingmefeellike
anerrantchild—again.AndIwouldarguewithhim,buthe’sprettyworked
upoverElena,andIdon’twanttopushhimanyfurther,butIcan’tresistone
comment.
“SeemsIcan’ttrustyoueither,”Imutter.“YoucouldhavetoldmeSawyer
waswatchingme.”
“Doyouwanttofightaboutthat,too?”hesnaps.
“Iwasn’tawarewewerefighting.Ithoughtwewerecommunicating,”I
mumblepetulantly.
Hecloseshiseyesbrieflyashestrugglestocontainhistemper.Iswallowand
watchanxiously.Jeez,thiscouldgoeitherway.
“Ihavetowork,”hesaysquietly,andwiththat,heleavestheroom.
Iexhale.Ihadn’trealizedI’dbeenholdingmybreath.Iflopbackontothe
bed,staringattheceiling.
Canweeverhaveanormalconversationwithoutitdisintegratingintoan
argument?
It’sexhausting.
Wejustdon’tknoweachotherthatwell.DoIreallywanttomoveinwith
him?Idon’tevenknowifIshouldmakehimacupofteaorcoffeewhilehe’s
working.ShouldIdisturbhimatall?Ihavenoideaofhislikesanddislikes.
Evidentlyhe’sboredwiththewholeElenathing—he’sright,Ineedtomove
on.Letitgo.Well,atleasthe’snotexpectingmetobefriendswithher,andI
hopethatshe’llnowstophasslingmeforameeting.
Igetoffthebedandwandertothewindow.Unlockingthebalconydoor,I
openitandstrollovertotheglassrailing.Itstransparencyisunnerving.The
air’schillyandfresh,asI’mupsohigh.
IgazeoutoverthetwinklinglightsofSeattle.He’ssofarremovedfrom
everythinguphereinhisfortress.Answerabletonoone.He’djusttoldmehe
lovesme,thenallthiscrapcomesupbecauseofthatdreadfulwoman.Iroll
myeyes.Hislifeissocomplicated.
He’ssocomplicated.
WithaheavysighandalastglanceatSeattlespreadlikeclothsofgoldatmy
feet,IdecidetocallRay.Ihaven’tspokentohimforawhile.It’sabrief
conversationasperusual,butIascertainhe’sfineandthatI’minterruptingan
importantsoccermatch.
“HopealliswellwithChristian,”hesayscasually,andIknowhe’sfishingfor
informationbutdoesn’treallywanttoknow.
“Yeah.We’recool.”Sortof,andI’mmovinginwithhim.Thoughwehaven’t
discussedatimetable.
“Loveyou,Dad.”
“Loveyou,too,Annie.”
Ihangupandcheckmywatch.It’sonlyten.Becauseofourdiscussion,Iam
feelingstrangelyinnervatedandrestless.
Ishowerquickly,andbackinthebedroom,decidetowearoneofthe
nightdressesthatCarolineActonprocuredformefromNeimanMarcus.
Christian’salwaysmoaningaboutmyT-shirts.Therearethree.Ichoosethe
palepinkandputitonovermyhead.Thefabricskimsacrossmyskin,
caressingandclingingtomeasitfallsaroundmybody.Itfeelsluxurious—
thefinest,thinnestsatin.Holycrap.Inthemirror,Ilooklikea1930smovie
star.It’slong,elegant—andveryun-me.
Igrabthematchingrobeanddecidetohuntoutabookinthelibrary.Icould
readonmyiPad—butrightnow,Iwantthecomfortandreassuranceofa
physicalbook.I’llleaveChristianalone.Perhapshe’llrecoverhisgood
humouroncehe’sfinishedworking.
TherearesomanybooksinChristian’slibrary.Scanningeverytitlewilltake
forever.
IglanceoccasionallyatthebilliardtableandflushasIrecallourprevious
evening.IsmilewhenIseethattherulerisstillonthefloor.Pickingitup,I
swatmypalm.Ow!Itstings.
Whycan’tItakealittlemorepainformyman?Disconsolately,Iplaceiton
thedeskandcontinuemyhuntforagoodread.
Mostofthebooksarefirsteditions.Howcanhehaveamassedacollection
likethisinsuchashorttime?PerhapsTaylor’sjobdescriptionincludesbook
buying.IsettleonRebeccabyDaphneDuMaurier.Ihaven’treadthisfora
longtime.IsmileasIcurlupinoneoftheoverstuffedarmchairsandreadthe
firstline:LastnightIdreamtIwenttoManderleyagain…
IamjostledawakeasChristianliftsmeinhisarms.
“Hey,”hemurmurs,“youfellasleep.Icouldn’tfindyou.”Henuzzlesmy
hair.Sleepily,Iputmyarmsaroundhisneckandbreatheinhisscent—oh,he
smellssogood—ashecarriesmebacktothebedroom.Helaysmedownon
thebedandcoversme.
“Sleep,baby,”hewhispersandhepresseshislipsagainstmyforehead.
Iwakesuddenlyfromadisturbingdreamandammomentarilydisorientated.I
findmyselfanxiouslycheckingtheendofthebed,butthere’snoonethere.
Driftingfromthegreatroom,Ihearthefaintstrainsofacomplexmelody
fromthepiano.
Whattimeisit?Icheckthealarmclock—twointhemorning.HasChristian
cometosleepatall?Idisentanglemylegsfrommyrobe,whichI’mstill
wearing,andclamberoutofbed.
Inthegreatroom,Istandintheshadows,listening.Christianislosttothe
music.Helookssafeandsecureinhisbubbleoflight.Andthetuneheplays
hasaliltingmelody,partsofwhichsoundfamiliar,butsoelaborate.Jeez,he’s
good.Whydoesthisalwaystakemebysurprise?
Thewholescenelooksdifferentsomehow,andIrealizethatthepianolidis
down,givingmeanunhinderedview.Heglancesupandoureyeslock,his
greyandsoftlyluminousinthediffuseglowofthelamp.Hecontinuesto
play,notfalteringatall,asImakemywayovertohim.Hiseyesfollowme,
drinkingmein,burningbrighter.AsIreachhim,hestops.
“Whydidyoustop?Thatwaslovely.”
“Doyouhaveanyideahowdesirableyoulookatthemoment?”hesays,his
voicesoft.
Oh.“Cometobed,”Iwhisperandhiseyesheatasheholdsouthishand.
WhenItakeit,hetugsunexpectedlysoIfallintohislap.Hewrapshisarms
aroundmeandnuzzlesmyneckbehindmyear,sendingshiversdownmy
spine.
“Whydowefight?”hewhispers,ashisteethgrazemyearlobe.
Holycow.Myheartskipsabeat,thenstartspounding,coursingheat
throughoutmybody.“Becausewe’regettingtoknoweachother,andyou’re
stubbornandcantankerousandmoodyanddifficult,”Imurmurbreathlessly,
shiftingmyheadtogivehimbetteraccesstomythroat.Herunshisnose
downmyneck,andIfeelhissmile.
“I’mallthosethings,MissSteele.It’sawonderyouputupwithme.”Henips
myearlobeandImoan.“Isitalwayslikethis?”hesighs.
“Ihavenoidea.”
“Meneither.”Heyanksthesashofmyrobesoitfallsopen,andhishand
skimsdownmybody,overmybreast.Mynippleshardenbeneathhisgentle
touchandstrainagainstthesatin.Hecontinuesdowntomywaist,downto
myhip.
“Youfeelsofineunderthismaterial,andIcanseeeverything—eventhis.”
Hetugsgentlyonmypubichairthroughthefabric,makingmegasp,while
hisotherhandfistsinmyhairatmynape.Pullingmyheadback,hekisses
me,histongueurgent,relentless,needy.Imoaninresponseandcaresshis
dear,dearface.Hishandgentlypullsmynightdressup,slowly,tantalizingly
untilhe’sfondlingmynakedbehindandthenrunninghisthumbnaildownthe
insideofmythigh.
Suddenlyherises,startlingme,andheliftsmebodilyontothepiano.Myfeet
restonthekeys,soundingdiscordant,disjointednotes,andhishandsskimup
mylegsandpartmyknees.Hegrabsmyhands.
“Lieback,”heorders,holdingmyhandswhileIsinkbackontopofthe
piano.Thelidishardanduncompromisingagainstmyback.Heletsgoand
pushesmylegsopenwider,myfeetdancingoverthekeys,overthelowerand
highernotes.
Ohboy.Iknowwhathe’sgoingtodo,andtheanticipation…Igroanloudly
ashekissestheinsideofmyknee,thenkissesandsucksandnipshisway
higherupmylegtomythigh.Thesoftsatinofmynightgownriseshigher,
skimmingovermysensitizedskin,ashepushesthefabric.Iflexmyfeetand
thechordssoundagain.Closingmyeyes,Isurrendermyselftohimashis
mouthreachestheapexofmythighs.
Hekissesme…there…Ohboy…thengentlyblowsbeforehistongue
circlesmyclitoris.Hepushesmylegswider.Ifeelsoopen—soexposed.He
holdsmeinplace,hishandsjustabovemykneesashistonguetorturesme,
givingnoquarter,norespite…noreprieve.Tiltingmyhipsup,meetingand
matchinghisrhythm,Iamconsumed.
“Oh,Christian,please.”Imoan.
“Ohno,baby,notyet,”heteases,butIfeelmyselfquickenasdoeshe,andhe
stops.
“No,”Iwhimper.
“Thisismyrevenge,Ana,”hegrowlssoftly.“Arguewithme,andIamgoing
totakeitoutonyourbodysomehow.”Hetrailskissesalongmybelly,his
handstravelingupmythighs,stroking,kneading,tantalizing.Histongue
circlesmynavelashishands—andhisthumbs…ohhisthumbs—reachthe
summitofmythighs.
“Ah!”Icryoutashepushesoneinsideme.Theotherpersecutesme,slowly,
agonizingly,circlingroundandround.MybackarchesoffthepianoasI
writhebeneathhistouch.
It’salmostunbearable.
“Christian!”Icry,spirallingoutofcontrolwithneed.
Hetakespityonmeandstops.Liftingmyfeetoffthekeys,hepushesme;
andsuddenly,I’mslidingeffortlesslyupthepiano,glidingonsatin,andhe’s
followingmeupthere,brieflykneelingbetweenmylegstorollonacondom.
HehoversovermeandI’mpanting,gazingupathimwithragingneed,andI
realizehe’snaked.Whendidhetakeoffhisclothes?
Hestaresdownatme,andthere’swonderinhiseyes,wonderandloveand
passion,andit’sbreath-taking.
“Iwantyousobadly,”hesaysandveryslowly,exquisitely,hesinksintome.
Iamsprawledontopofhim,wrungout,mylimbsheavyandlanguid,aswe
lieontopofhisgrandpiano.Ohmy.He’smuchmorecomfortabletolieon
thanthepiano.Carefulnottotouchhischest,Irestmycheekagainsthimand
keepperfectlystill.Hedoesn’tobject,andIlistentohisbreathingasitslows
likemine.Gentlyhestrokesmyhair.
“Doyoudrinkteaorcoffeeintheevening?”Iasksleepily.
“Whatastrangequestion,”hesaysdreamily.
“IthoughtIcouldbringyouteainyourstudy,andthenIrealizedIdidn’t
knowwhatyouwouldlike.”
“Oh,Isee.Waterorwineintheevening,Ana.ThoughmaybeIshouldtry
tea.”
Hishandmovesrhythmicallydownmyback,strokingmetenderly.
“Wereallyknowverylittleabouteachother,”Imurmur.
“Iknow,”hesays,andhisvoiceismournful.Isituptogazeathim.
“Whatisit?”Iask.Heshakeshisheadasiftoridhimselfofsomeunpleasant
thought,andraisinghishand,hecaressesmycheek,hiseyesbrightand
earnest.
“Iloveyou,AnaSteele,”hesays.
Thealarmblastsonwiththesixamtrafficnews,andIamrudelyawakened
frommydisturbingdreamofover-blondanddark-hairedwomen.Ican’t
graspwhatit’sabout,andI’mimmediatelydistractedbecauseChristianGrey
iswrappedaroundmelikesilk,hisunruly-hairedheadonmychest,hishand
onmybreast,hislegoverme,holdingmedown.He’sstillasleep,andIam
toowarm.ButIignoremydiscomfort,tentativelyreachinguptorunmy
fingersgentlythroughhishair,andhestirs.Raisingbrightgreyeyes,hegrins
sleepily.
Holycow…he’sadorable.
“Goodmorning,beautiful,”hesays.
“Goodmorning,beautifulyourself.”Ismilebackathim.Hekissesme,
disentangleshimself,andleansuponhiselbow,staringdownatme.
“Sleepokay?”heasks.
“Yes,despitetheinterruptiontomysleeplastnight.”
Hisgrinbroadens.“Hmm.Youcaninterruptmelikethatanytime.”Hekisses
meagain.
“Howaboutyou?Didyousleepwell?”
“Ialwayssleepwellwithyou,Anastasia.”
“Nomorenightmares?”
“No.”
Ifrownandchanceaquestion.“Whatareyournightmaresabout?”
Hisbrowcreasesandhisgrinfades.Shit—mystupidcuriosity.
“They’reflashbacksofmyearlychildhood,orsoDr.Flynnsays.Somevivid,
somelessso.”Hisvoicedropsandadistant,harrowedlookcrosseshisface.
Absentmindedly,hebeginstotracemycollarbonewithhisfinger,distracting
me.
“Doyouwakeupcryingandscreaming?”Itryinvaintojoke.
Helooksatme,puzzled.“No,Anastasia.I’venevercried.AsfarasIcan
remember.”
Hefrowns,asifreachingintothedepthsofhismemories.Ohno—that’stoo
darkaplacetogoatthishour,surely.
“Doyouhaveanyhappymemoriesofyourchildhood?”Iaskquickly,mainly
todistracthim.Helookspensiveforamoment,stillrunninghisfingeralong
myskin.
“Irecallthecrackwhorebaking.Irememberthesmell.AbirthdaycakeI
think.Forme.Andthenthere’sMia’sarrivalwithmymomanddad.Mymom
wasworriedaboutmyreaction,butIadoredbabyMiaimmediately.Myfirst
wordwasMia.Iremembermyfirstpianolesson.MissKathie,mytutor,was
awesome.Shekepthorses,too.”Hesmileswistfully.
“Yousaidyourmomsavedyou.How?”
Hisreverieisbroken,andhegazesatmeasifIdon’tunderstandthe
elementarymathoftwoplustwo.
“Sheadoptedme,”hesayssimply.“IthoughtshewasanangelwhenIfirst
mether.Shewasdressedinwhiteandsogentleandcalmassheexamined
me.I’llneverforgetthat.Ifshe’dsaidnoorifCarrickhadsaidno…”He
shrugsandglancesoverhisshoulderatthealarmclock.“Thisisallalittle
deepforsoearlyinthemorning,”hemutters.
“Ihavemadeavowtogettoknowyoubetter.”
“Didyounow,MissSteele?IthoughtyouwantedtoknowifIpreferred
coffeeortea.”
Hesmirks.“Anyway,Icanthinkofonewayyoucangettoknowme.”He
pusheshishipssuggestivelyagainstme.
“IthinkIknowyouquitewellenoughthatway.”Myvoiceishaughtyand
scolding,anditmakeshimsmilemorebroadly.
“Idon’tthinkI’llevergettoknowyouwellenoughthatway,”hemurmurs.
“Therearedefiniteadvantagestowakingupbesideyou.”Hisvoiceissoft
andbone-meltinglyseductive.
“Don’tyouhavetogetup?”Myvoiceislowandhusky.Jeez,whathedoesto
me…
“Notthismorning.OnlyoneplaceIwanttobeuprightnow,MissSteele.”
Andhiseyessparklesalaciously.
“Christian!”Igasp,shocked.Heshiftssuddenlysothathe’sontopofme,
pressingmeintothebed.Grabbingmyhands,hepullsthemupabovemy
headandbeginstokissmythroat.
“Oh,MissSteele.”Hesmilesagainstmyskin,sendingdelicioustingles
throughme,ashishandtravelsdownmybodyandstartstoslowlyhitchup
mysatinnightdress.“Oh,whatI’dliketodotoyou,”hemurmurs.
AndIamlost,interrogationover.
Mrs.Jonessetsdownmybreakfastofpancakesandbacon,andforChristian
anomeletteandbacon.Wesitsidebysideatthebarinacomfortablesilence.
“WhenamIgoingtomeetyourtrainer,Claude,andputhimthroughhis
paces?”Iask.
Christianglancesdownatme,grinning.
“DependsifyouwanttogotoNewYorkthisweekendornot—unlessyou’d
liketoseehimearlyonemorningthisweek.I’llaskAndreatocheckonhis
scheduleandcomebacktoyou.”
“Andrea?”
“MyPA.”
Ohyes.“Oneofyourmanyblondes,”Iteasehim.
“She’snotmine.Sheworksforme.You’remine.”
“Iworkforyou,”Imuttersourly.
Hegrinsasifhe’sforgotten.“Soyoudo.”Hisbeamingsmileisinfectious.
“MaybeClaudecanteachmetokickbox,”Iwarn.
“Ohyeah?Fancyyourchancesagainstme?”Christianraisesaneyebrow,
amused.
“Bringiton,MissSteele.”Heissodamnedhappycomparedtoyesterday’s
foulmoodafterElenaleft.It’stotallydisarming.Maybeit’sallthesex…
perhapsthat’swhat’smakinghimsobuoyant.
Iglancebehindmeatthepiano,savouringthememoryoflastnight.“Youput
thelidofthepianobackup.”
“Icloseditlastnightsoasnottodisturbyou.Guessitdidn’twork,butI’m
gladitdidn’t.”Christian’slipstwitchintoalascivioussmileashetakesabite
ofomelette.Igocrimsonandsmirkbackathim.
Ohyes…funtimesonthepiano.
Mrs.Jonesleansoverandplacesapaperbagcontainingmylunchinfrontof
me,makingmeflushguiltily.
“Forlater,Ana.Tunaokay?”
“Ohyes.Thankyou,Mrs.Jones.”Igiveherashysmile,whichshe
reciprocateswarmlybeforeleavingthegreatroom.Isuspectit’stogiveus
someprivacy.
“CanIaskyousomething?”IturnbacktoChristian.
Hisamusedexpressionslips.“Ofcourse.”
“Andyouwon’tbeangry?”
“IsitaboutElena?”
“No.”
“ThenIwon’tbeangry.”
“ButInowhaveasupplementaryquestion.”
“Oh?”
“Whichisabouther.”
Herollshiseyes.“What?”hesays,andnowhe’sexasperated.
“WhydoyougetsomadwhenIaskyouabouther?”
“Honestly?”
Iscowlathim.“Ithoughtyouwerealwayshonestwithme.”
“Iendeavourtobe.”
Inarrowmyeyesathim.“Thatsoundslikeaveryevasiveanswer.”
“Iamalwayshonestwithyou,Ana.Idon’twanttoplaygames.Well,not
thosesortsofgames,”hequalifies,ashiseyesheat.
“Whatsortofgamesdoyouwanttoplay?”
Heinclineshisheadtoonesideandsmirksatme.“MissSteele,youareso
easilydistracted.”
Igiggle.He’sright.“Mr.Grey,youaredistractingonsomanylevels.”Igaze
athisdancinggreyeyesalightwithhumour.
“Myfavouritesoundinthewholeworldisyourgiggle,Anastasia.Now—
whatwasyouroriginalquestion?”heaskssmoothly,andIthinkhe’slaughing
atme.Itrytotwistmymouthtoshowmydispleasure,butIlikeplayfulFifty
—he’sfun.Ilovesomeearlymorningbanter.Ifrown,tryingtorecallmy
question.
“Ohyes.Youonlysawyoursubsontheweekends?”
“Yes,that’scorrect,”hesaysregardingmenervously.
Igrinathim.“So,nosexduringtheweek.”
Helaughs.“Oh,that’swherewe’regoingwiththis.”Helooksvaguely
relieved.“WhydoyouthinkIworkouteveryweekday?”Nowhereallyis
laughingatme,butIdon’tcare.
Iwanttohugmyselfwithglee.Anotherfirst—well,severalfirsts.
“Youlookverypleasedwithyourself,MissSteele.”
“Iam,Mr.Grey.”
“Youshouldbe.”Hegrins.“Noweatyourbreakfast.”
Oh,bossyFifty…he’sneverfaraway.
WeareinthebackoftheAudi.Taylorisdrivingwiththeintentionof
droppingmeoffatwork,thenChristian.Sawyerisridingshotgun.
“Didn’tyousayyourroommate’sbrotherwasarrivingtoday?”Christianasks,
almostcasually,hisvoiceandexpressiongivingnothingaway.
“Oh,Ethan,”Igasp.“Iforgot.OhChristian,thankyouforremindingme.I’ll
havetogobacktotheapartment.”
Hisfacefalls.“Whattime?”
“I’mnotsurewhattimehe’sarriving.”
“Idon’twantyougoinganywhereonyourown,”hesayssharply.
“Iknow,”ImutterandresistrollingmyeyesatMr.Over-Reaction.“Will
Sawyerbespying—um…patrollingtoday?”IglanceslylyinSawyer’s
directiontoseethebacksofhisearsturnred.
“Yes,”Christiansnaps,hiseyesglacial.
“IfIwasdrivingtheSaabitwouldbeeasier,”Imutterpetulantly.
“Sawyerwillhaveacar,andhecandriveyoutoyourapartment,depending
onwhattime.”
“Okay.IthinkEthanwillprobablycontactmeduringtheday.I’llletyou
knowwhattheplansarethen.”
Hegazesatme,sayingnothing.Oh,whatishethinking?
“Okay,”heacquiesces.“Nowhereonyourown.Doyouunderstand?”He
wavesalongfingeratme.
“Yes,dear,”Imutter.
There’satraceofasmileonhisface.“Andmaybeyoushouldjustuseyour
Blackberry—I’lle-mailyouonit.ThatshouldpreventmyITguyhavinga
thoroughlyinterestingmorning,okay?”Hisvoiceissardonic.
“Yes,Christian.”Ican’tresist.Irollmyeyesathim,andhesmirksatme.
“WhyMissSteele,Idobelieveyou’remakingmypalmtwitch.”
“Ah,Mr.Grey,yourperpetuallytwitchingpalm.Whatarewegoingtodo
withthat?”
HelaughsandthenisdistractedbyhisBlackberry,whichmustbeonvibrate
becauseitdoesn’tring.HefrownswhenheseesthecallerID.
“Whatisit?”hesnapsintothephone,thenlistensintently.Iusethe
opportunitytostudyhislovelyfeatures—hisstraightnose,hishairhanging
scruffilyoverhisforehead.Iamdistractedfrommysurreptitiousoglingby
hisexpression,whichturnsfromincredulitytoamusement.Ipayattention.
“You’rekidding…Forascene…Whendidhetellyouthis?”Christian
chuckles,almostreluctantly.“No,don’tworry.Youdon’thavetoapologize.
I’mgladthere’salogicalexplanation.Itdidseemaridiculouslylowamount
ofmoney…Ihavenodoubtyou’vesomethingevilandcreativeplannedfor
yourrevenge.PoorIsaac.”Hesmiles.“Good…
Good-bye.”Hesnapsthephoneshutandglancesatme.Hiseyesaresuddenly
wary,butoddly,helooksrelieved,too.
“Whowasthat?”Iask.
“Youreallywanttoknow?”heasksquietly.
And,Iknow.IshakemyheadandstareoutmywindowatthegreySeattle
day,feelingforlorn.Whycan’tsheleavehimalone?
“Hey.”Hereachesformyhandandkisseseachofmyknucklesinturn,and
suddenlyhe’ssuckingmylittlefinger,hard.Thenbitingitsoftly.
Whoa!Hehasahotlinetomygroin,IgaspandglancenervouslyatTaylor
andSawyer,thenatChristian,andhiseyesaredarker.Hegivesmeaslow
carnalsmile.
“Don’tsweatit,Anastasia,”hemurmurs.“She’sinthepast.”Andheplantsa
kissinthecentreofmypalm,sendingtingleseverywhere,andmymomentary
piqueisforgotten.
“Morning,Ana,”JackmuttersasImakemywaytomydesk.“Nicedress.”
Iflush.Thedressispartofmynewwardrobe,courtesyofmyincrediblyrich
boyfriend.It’sasleevelessshiftdressofpalebluelinen,quitefitted,andI’m
wearingcreamhigh-heeledsandals.Christianlikesheels,Ithink.Ismile
secretlyatthethoughtbutquicklyrecovermyblandprofessionalsmilefor
myboss.
“Goodmorning,Jack.”
Isetaboutorderingamessengertotakehisbrochuretotheprinters.Hepops
hisheadaroundhisofficedoor.
“CouldIhaveacoffee,please,Ana?”
“Sure.”IwanderintothekitchenandbumpintoClairefromreception,whois
alsofixingcoffee.
“Hey,Ana,”shesayscheerfully.
“Hi,Claire.”
Wechatbrieflyaboutherextended-familygatheringovertheweekend,which
sheenjoyedimmensely,andItellheraboutsailingwithChristian.
“Yourboyfriendissodreamy,Ana,”shesays,hereyesglazingover.
Iamtemptedtorollmyeyesather.
“He’snotbad-looking,”Ismileandwebothstartlaughing.
“Youtookyourtime!”JacksnapswhenIbringinhiscoffee.
Oh!“I’msorry.”Iflushthenfrown.Itooktheusualamountoftime.What’s
hisproblem?Perhapshe’snervousaboutsomething.
Heshakeshishead.“Sorry,Ana.Ididn’tmeantobarkatyou,honey.”
Honey?
“There’ssomethinggoingonatseniormanagementlevel,andIdon’tknow
whatitis.
Keepyoureartotheground,okay?Ifyouhearanything—Iknowhowyou
girlstalk.”Hegrinsatme,andIfeelslightlysick.Hehasnoideahowwe
“girls”talk.Besides,Iknowwhat’shappening.
“You’llletmeknow,right?”
“Sure,”Imutter.“I’vesentthebrochuretotheprinters.Itwillbebackbytwo
o’clock.”
“Great.Here.”Hehandsmeapileofmanuscripts.“Alltheseneedsynopses
ofthefirstchapter,thenfiling.”
“I’llgetonit.”
Iamrelievedtostepoutofhisofficeandsitdownatmydesk.Oh,it’shard
beingintheknow.Whatwillhedowhenhefindsout?Mybloodrunscold.
SomethingtellsmeJackwillbeannoyed.IglanceatmyBlackberryand
smile.There’sane-mailfromChristian.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Sunrise
Date:June14,201109:23
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ilovewakinguptoyouinthemorning.
ChristianGrey
Completely&UtterlySmittenCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Ithinkmyfacesplitsintwowithmygrin,andmyinnergoddessback-flips
overherchaiselongue.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Sundown
Date:June14,201109:35
To:ChristianGrey
DearCompletely&UtterlySmitten
Ilovewakinguptoyou,too.ButIlovebeinginbedwithyouandinelevators
andonpianosandbilliardtablesandboatsanddesksandshowersand
bathtubsandstrangewoodencrosseswithshacklesandfour-posterbedswith
redsatinsheetsandboathousesandchildhoodbedrooms.
Yours
SexMadandInsatiablexx
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:WetHardware
Date:June14,201109:37
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearSexMadandInsatiable
I’vejustspatcoffeeallovermykeyboard.
Idon’tthinkthat’severhappenedtomebefore.
Idoadmireawomanwhoconcentratesongeography.
AmItoinferyoujustwantmeformybody?
ChristianGrey
Completely&UtterlyShockedCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Giggling—andwettoo
Date:June14,2011:09:42
To:ChristianGrey
DearCompletely&UtterlyShocked
Always.
Ihaveworktodo.
Stopbotheringme.
SM&Ixx
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:DoIhaveto?
Date:June14,201109:50
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearSM&I
Asever,yourwishismycommand.
Lovethatyouaregigglingandwet.
Laters,baby.
x
ChristianGrey,
Completely&UtterlySmitten,ShockedandSpellboundCEO,Grey
EnterprisesHoldingsInc.
IputtheBlackberrydownandgetonwithmywork.
Atlunchtime,Jackasksmetogodowntothedeliforhislunch.Icall
ChristianassoonasIleaveJack’soffice.
“Anastasia.”Heanswersimmediately,hisvoicewarmandcaressing.Howis
itthatthismancanmakememeltoverthephone?
“Christian,Jackhasaskedmetogethislunch.”
“Lazybastard,”Christiangripes.
Iignorehimandcontinue.“SoI’mgoingtogetit.Itmightbehandyifyou
gavemeSawyer’snumber,soIdon’thavetobotheryou.”
“It’snobother,baby.”
“Areyouonyourown?”
“No.Therearesixpeoplestaringatmeatthemomentwonderingwhothe
hellI’mtalkingto.”
Shit…“Really?”Igasp,panicked.
“Yes.Really.Mygirlfriend,”heannouncesawayfromthephone.
Holycow!“Theyprobablyallthoughtyouweregay,youknow.”
Helaughs.“Yeah,probably.”Ihearhisgrin.
“Er—I’dbettergo.”IamsurehecantellhowembarrassedIamtobe
interruptinghim.
“I’llletSawyerknow.”Helaughsagain.“Haveyouheardfromyourfriend?”
“Notyet.You’llbethefirsttoknow,Mr.Grey.”
“Good.Laters,baby.”
“Bye,Christian.”Igrin.Everytimehesaysthat,itmakesmesmile…soun-
Fifty,butsomehowsohim,too.
WhenIexitmomentslater,Sawyeriswaitingonthedoorstepofthebuilding.
“MissSteele,”hegreetsmeformally.
“Sawyer.”Inodinresponseandtogetherweheaddowntothedeli.
Idon’tfeelascomfortablewithSawyerasIdowithTaylor.Hecontinually
scansthestreetaswemakeourwayalongtheblock.Itactuallymakesme
morenervous,andIfindmyselfmirroringhisactions.
IsLeilaoutthere?OrareweallinfectedbyChristian’sparanoia?Isthispart
ofhisfiftyshades?WhatI’dgiveforhalfanhourofcandiddiscussionwith
Dr.Flynn,tofindout.
There’snothingamiss,justlunchtimeSeattle—peoplerushingforlunch,
shopping,meetingfriends.Iwatchtwoyoungwomenhugastheymeetup.
ImissKate.It’sonlybeentwoweekssincesheleftforhervacation,butit
feelslikethelongesttwoweeksofmylife.Somuchhashappened—she’ll
neverbelievemewhenItellher.Well,tellhertheeditedNDA-compliant
version.Ifrown.I’llhavetotalktoChristianaboutthat.WhatwouldKate
makeofit?Iblanchatthethought.Perhapsshe’llbebackwithEthan.Ifeela
rushofexcitementatthethought,butIthinkit’sunlikely.She’dstayonwith
Elliotsurely.
“Wheredoyoustandwhenyou’rewaitingandwatchingoutside?”Iask
Sawyeraswegetinlineforlunch.Sawyerisinfrontofme,facingthedoor,
continuallymonitoringthestreetandanyonewhocomesin.It’sunnerving.
“Isitinthecoffeeshopdirectlyacrossthestreet,MissSteele.”
“Doesn’titgetveryboring?”
“Nottome,ma’am.It’swhatIdo,”hesaysstiffly.
Iflush.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoimply…”Myvoicetrailsoffathiskind,
understandingexpression.
“Please,MissSteele.Myjobistoprotectyou.Andthat’swhatI’lldo.”
“So,nosignofLeila?”
“No,ma’am.”
Ifrown.“Howdoyouknowwhatshelookslike?”
“I’veseenherphotograph.”
“Oh,doyouhaveitonyou?”
“No,ma’am.”Hetapshisskull.“Committedtomemory.”
Ofcourse.I’dreallyliketoexamineaphotographofLeilatoseewhatshe
lookedlikebeforeshebecameGhostGirl.IwonderifChristianwouldletme
haveacopy?Yes,heprobablywould—formysafety.Ihatchaplan,andmy
subconsciousgloatsandnodsapprovingly.
Thebrochuresarrivebackattheoffice,andIhavetosay,theylookgreat.I
takeoneintoJack’soffice.Hiseyeslightup,andIdon’tknowifit’satmeor
thebrochure.Ichoosetobelieveit’sthelatter.
“Theselookgreat,Ana.”Idly,heflicksthroughit.“Yeah,goodjob.Areyou
seeingyourboyfriendthisevening?”Hislipcurlsashesaysboyfriend.
“Yes.Welivetogether.”It’ssortofthetruth.Well,wedoatthemoment.And
Ihaveofficiallyagreedtomovein,soit’snotmuchofawhitelie.Ihopethat
it’senoughtothrowhimoffthescent.
“Wouldheobjecttoyoucomingoutforaquickdrinktonight?Tocelebrate
allyourhardwork?”
“Ihaveafriendcominginfromoutoftowntonight,andwe’reallgoingout
fordinner.”AndI’llbebusyeverynight,Jack.
“Isee.”Hesighs,exasperated.“MaybewhenI’mbackfromNewYork,huh?”
Heraiseshiseyebrowsinexpectation,andhisgazedarkenssuggestively.
Ohno.Ismile,noncommittal,stiflingashudder.
“Wouldyoulikesomecoffeeortea?”Iask.
“Coffee,please.”Hisvoiceislowandhuskyasifhe’saskingforsomething
else.Fuck.
He’snotgoingtobackoff.Icanseethatnow.Oh…Whattodo?
IbreathealongsighofreliefwhenIamoutofhisoffice.Hemakesmetense.
Christianisrightabouthim,andpartofmeispissedthatChristianisright
abouthim.
IsitdownatmydeskandmyBlackberryrings—anumberIdon’trecognize.
“AnaSteele.”
“Hi,Steele!”Ethan’sdrawlcatchesmemomentarilyoffguard.
“Ethan!Howareyou?”Ialmostsquealwithdelight.
“Gladtobeback.Iamseriouslyfedupwithsunshineandrumpunches,and
mybabysisterbeinghopelesslyinlovewiththebigguy.It’sbeenhell,Ana.”
“Yeah!Sea,sand,sun,andrumpunchessoundslikeDante’sInferno.”I
giggle.“Whereareyou?”
“I’matSea-Tac,waitingformybag.Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’matwork.Yes,Iamgainfullyemployed,”Irespondtohisgasp.“Doyou
wanttocomehereandcollectthekeys?Icanmeetyoulateratthe
apartment.”
“Soundsgreat.I’llseeyouinabout45minutes,anhourmaybe?What’sthe
address?”
IgivehimSIP’saddress.
“Seeyousoon,Ethan.”
“Laters,”hesaysandhangsup.What?NotEthan,too?Anditdawnsonme
thathe’sjustspentaweekwithElliot.Iquicklytypeane-mailtoChristian.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:VisitorsfromSunnyClimes.
Date:June14,2011:14:55
To:ChristianGrey
DearestCompletely&UtterlySS&S
Ethanisback,andhe’scomingheretocollectkeystotheapartment.
I’dreallyliketomakesurehe’ssettledinokay.
Whydon’tyoucollectmeafterwork?Wecangototheapartmentthenwe
canALLgooutforamealmaybe?
Mytreat?
Your
Anax
StillSM&I
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:DinnerOut
Date:June14,201115:05
To:AnastasiaSteele
Iapproveofyourplan.Exceptthepartaboutyoupaying!
Mytreat.
I’llcollectyouat6:00.
x
PS:Whyaren’tyouusingyourBlackberry!!!
ChristianGrey
CompletelyandUtterlyAnnoyed,CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Bossiness
Date:June14,2011:15:11
To:ChristianGrey
Oh,don’tbesocrustyandcross.
It’sallincode.
I’llseeyouat6:00.
Anax
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:MaddeningWoman
Date:June14,201115:18
To:AnastasiaSteele
Crustyandcross!
I’llgiveyoucrustyandcross.
Andlookforwardtoit.
ChristianGrey
CompletelyandUtterlyMoreAnnoyed,butsmilingforsomeunknown
reason,CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Promises.Promises.
Date:June14,2011:15:23
To:ChristianGrey
Bringiton,Mr.Grey
Ilookforwardtoittoo.;D
Anax
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
Hedoesn’treply,butthenIdon’texpecthimto.Iimaginehimmoaningabout
mixedsignals,andthethoughtmakesmesmile.Idaydreambrieflyabout
whathemightdotomebutfindmyselfshiftingaboutinmychair.My
subconsciousgazesatmedisapprovinglyoverherhalf-moonspecs—geton
withyourwork.
Alittlelater,myphonebuzzes.It’sClaireatreception.
“There’sarealcuteguyinreceptiontoseeyou.Wemustgooutfordrinks
sometime,Ana.Yousureknowsomehunkyguys,”shehissesconspiratorially
throughthephone.
Ethan!Grabbingmykeysfrommypurse,Ihurryouttothefoyer.
Holyshit—sun-bleachedblondhair,atantodiefor,andglowinghazeleyes
gazeupatmefromthegreenleathercouch.Assoonasheseesme,hismouth
dropsopen,andhe’sonhisfeetcomingtowardme.
“Wow,Ana.”Hefrownsatmeashebendstogivemehug.
“Youlookwell.”Igrinupathim.
“Youlook…wow—different.Worldly,moresophisticated.What’s
happened?Youchangedyourhair?Clothes?Idon’tknow,Steele,butyou
lookhot!”
Iblushfuriously.“Oh,Ethan.I’mjustinmyworkclothes,”IscoldasClaire
looksonwithanarchedeyebrowandawrysmile.
“HowwasBarbados?”
“Fun,”hesays.
“When’sKateback?”
“SheandElliotareflyingbackFriday.They’reprettydamnseriousabout
eachother.”
Ethanrollshiseyes.
“I’vemissedher.”
“Yeah?HowhaveyoubeendoingwithMr.Mogul?”
“Mr.Mogul?”Isnicker.“Well,it’sbeeninteresting.He’stakingusoutfor
dinnerthisevening.”
“Cool.”Ethanseemsgenuinelypleased.Phew!
“Here.”Ihandhimthekeys.“Youhavetheaddress?”
“Yeah.Laters.”Heleansoverandkissesmycheek.
“Elliot’sexpression?”
“Yeah,kindofgrowsonyou.”
“Itdoes.Laters.”Ismileathimashecollectshislargeshoulderbagfrom
besidethegreencouchandexitsthebuilding.
WhenIturn,Jackiswatchingmefromthefarsideofthefoyer,his
expressionunreadable.Ismilebrightlyathimandheadbacktomydesk,
feelinghiseyesonmethewholetime.Thisisbeginningtogetonmynerves.
Whattodo?Ihavenoidea.I’llhavetowaituntilKateisback.She’sboundto
comeupwithaplan.Thethoughtdispelsmybleakmood,andIpickupthe
nextmanuscript.
Atfivetosix,myphonebuzzes.It’sChristian.
“CrustyandCrosshere,”hesaysandIgrin.He’sstillplayfulFifty.Myinner
goddessisclappingherhandswithgleelikeasmallchild.
“Well,thisisSexMadandInsatiable.Itakeityou’reoutside?”Iaskdryly.
“Iamindeed,MissSteele.Lookingforwardtoseeingyou.”Hisvoiceis
warmandseductive,andmyheartflutterswildly.
“Ditto,Mr.Grey.I’llberightout.”Ihangup.
Iswitchoffmycomputerandgatherupmypurseandcreamcardigan.
“I’moffnow,Jack,”Icallthrough.
“Okay,Ana.Thanksfortoday,honey!Haveagreatevening.”
“You,too.”
Whycan’thebelikethatallthetime?Idon’tunderstandhim.
TheAudiisparkedatthecurb,andChristianclimbsoutasIapproach.He’s
takenoffhisjacket,andhe’swearinghisgreypants,myfavouriteonesthat
hangfromhiships—inthatway.HowcanthisGreekgodbemeantforme?I
findmyselfgrinninglikealooninanswertohisownidioticgrin.
He’sspentthewholedayactinglikeaboyfriendinlove—inlovewithme.
Thisadorable,complex,flawedmanisinlovewithme,andIwithhim.Joy
burstsunexpectedlyinsideme,andIsavourthemomentasIfeelbrieflythatI
couldconquertheworld.
“MissSteele,youlookascaptivatingasyoudidthismorning.”Christian
pullsmeintohisarmsandkissesmesoundly.
“Mr.Grey,sodoyou.”
“Let’sgogetyourfriend.”Hesmilesdownatmeandopensthecardoor.
AsTaylorheadstotheapartment,Christianfillsmeinonhisday—amuch
betteronethanyesterday,itseems.Igazeathimadoringlyasheattemptsto
explainsomebreak-throughtheenvironmentalsciencedepartmentatWSUin
Vancouverhasmade.Hiswordsmeanverylittletome,butI’mcaptivatedby
hispassionandinterestinthissubject.Maybethisiswhatitwillbelike,good
daysandbaddays,andifthegooddaysarelikethis,Iwon’thavemuchto
complainabout.Hehandsmeasheetofpaper.
“ThesearethetimesthatClaudeisfreethisweek,”hesays.
Oh!Thetrainer.
Aswepulluptomyapartmentbuilding,hefisheshisBlackberryfromhis
pocket.
“Grey,”heanswers.“Ros,whatisit?”Helistensintently,andIcantellit’san
involvedconversation.
“I’llgoandgetEthan.I’llbetwominutes,”ImouthatChristianandholdup
twofingers.Henods,obviouslydistractedbythecall.Tayloropensmydoor,
smilingatmewarmly.
Igrinathim,evenTaylor’sfeelingit.Ipresstheentryphoneandshout
happilyintoit.
“Hi,Ethan,it’sme.Letmein.”
Thedoorbuzzes,andIheadupstairstotheapartment.ItoccurstomethatI
havenotbeenheresinceSaturdaymorning.Thatseemssolongago.Ethan
haskindlyleftthefrontdooropen.Istepintotheapartment,andIdon’tknow
why,butIfreezeinstinctivelyassoonasIstepinside.Itakeamomentto
realizeit’sbecausethepale,wanfigurestandingbythekitchenisland,
holdingasmallrevolverisLeila,andshe’sgazingimpassivelyatme.
Holyfuck.
She’shere,gazingatmewithanunnervingblankexpression,holdingagun.
Mysubconsciousswoonsintoadeadfaint,andIdon’tthinkevensmelling
saltswillbringherback.
IblinkrepeatedlyatLeilaasmymindgoesintooverdrive.Howdidsheget
in?Where’sEthan?Holyshit!WhereisEthan?
Acreepingcoldfeargripsmyheart,andmyscalppricklesaseachandevery
follicleonmyheadtightenswithterror.Whatifshe’sharmedhim?Istart
breathingrapidlyasadrenalineandbone-numbingdreadcoursethroughmy
body.Keepcalm,keepcalm—Irepeatthemantraoverandoverinmyhead.
Shetiltsherheadtooneside,regardingmeasifI’manexhibitinafreak
show.Jeez,I’mnotthefreakhere.
ItfeelslikeaneonhaspassedwhileIprocessallthis,thoughinrealityitis
onlyasplitsecond.Leila’sexpressionremainsblank,andherappearanceisas
scruffyandill-kemptasever.She’sstillwearingthatgrubbytrenchcoat,and
shelooksdesperatelyinneedofawash.Herhairisgreasyandlank,plastered
againstherhead,andhereyesareadullbrown,cloudy,andvaguely
confused.
Despitethefactthatmymouthhasnomoistureinitwhatsoever,Iattemptto
speak.
“Hi.Leila,isn’tit?”Irasp.Shesmiles,butit’sadisturbingcurlofherlip
ratherthanatruesmile.
“Shespeaks,”shewhispers,andhervoiceissoftandhoarseatthesametime,
aneeriesound.
“Yes,Ispeak,”Isaygentlyasiftoachild.“Areyouherealone?”Whereis
Ethan?Myheartpoundsatthethoughtthathemighthavecometosome
harm.
Herfacefalls,somuchsothatIthinkshe’sabouttoburstintotears—she
lookssoforlorn.
“Alone,”shewhispers.“Alone.”Andthedepthofsadnessinthatonewordis
heartwrenching.Whatdoesshemean?Iamalone?She’salone?She’salone
becauseshe’sharmedEthan?Oh…no…Ihavetofightthechokingfear
clawingatmythroatastearsthreaten.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?CanIhelpyou?”Mywordsareacalm,gentle
interrogationdespitethesuffocatingfearinmythroat.Herbrowfurrowsasif
she’scompletelybefuddledbymyquestions.Butshemakesnoviolentmove
againstme.Herhandisstillrelaxedaroundhergun.Itakeadifferenttack,
tryingtoignoremytighteningscalp.
“Wouldyoulikesometea?”WhyamIaskingherifshewantstea?It’sRay’s
answertoanyemotionalsituation,resurfacinginappropriately.Jeez,he’d
haveafitifhesawmerightthisminute.Hisarmytrainingwouldhavekicked
in,andhe’dhavedisarmedherbynow.She’snotactuallypointingthatgunat
me.PerhapsIcanmove.Sheshakesherheadandtiltsitfromsidetosideasif
stretchingherneck.
Itakeadeeppreciouslungfulofair,tryingtocalmmypanickedbreathing,
andmovetowardthekitchenisland.Shefrownsasifshecan’tquite
understandwhatIamdoingandshiftsalittlesosheisstillfacingme.Ireach
thekettleandwithashakinghandfillitfromthefaucet.AsImove,my
breathingeases.Yes,ifshewantedmedead,surelyshewouldhaveshotme
bynow.Shewatchesmewithanabsent,bemusedcuriosity.AsIswitchon
thekettle,I’mplaguedbythethoughtofEthan.Ishehurt?Tiedup?
“Isthereanyoneelseintheapartment?”Iasktentatively.
Sheinclinesherheadtheotherway,andwithherrighthand—thehandnot
holdingtherevolver—shegrabsastrandofherlonggreasyhairandstarts
twirlingandfiddlingwithit,pullingandtwisting.It’sobviouslyanervous
habit,andwhileIamdistractedbythis,Iamstruckonceagainbyhowmuch
sheresemblesme.Iholdmybreath,waitingforheranswer,theanxiety
buildingtoanalmostunbearablepitch.
“Alone.Allalone,”shemurmurs.Ifindthiscomforting.MaybeEthanisn’t
here.Thereliefisempowering.
“Areyousureyoudon’twantteaorcoffee?”
“Notthirsty,”sheanswerssoftly,andshetakesacautioussteptowardme.My
feelingofempowermentevaporates.Fuck!Istartpantingwithfearagain,
feelingitsurgethickandroughthroughmyveins.Inspiteofthisandfeeling
beyondbrave,Iturnandfetchacoupleofcupsfromthecupboard.
“WhatdoyouhavethatIdon’t?”sheasks,hervoiceassumingthesingsong
intonationofachild.
“Whatdoyoumean,Leila?”IaskasgentlyasIcan.
“Master—Mr.Grey—heletsyoucallhimbyhisgivenname.”
“I’mnothissubmissive,Leila.Er…MasterunderstandsthatIamunable,
inadequatetofulfilthatrole.”
Shetiltsherheadtotheotherside.It’swhollyunnervingandunnaturalasa
gesture.
“In-ad-e-quate.”Sheteststheword,soundingitout,seeinghowitfeelsonher
tongue.
“ButMasterishappy.Ihaveseenhim.Helaughsandsmiles.Thesereactions
arerare…
veryrareforhim.”
Oh.
“Youlooklikeme.”Leilachangestack,surprisingme,hereyesseemingto
focusonmeproperlyforthefirsttime.“Masterlikesobedientoneswholook
likeyouandme.Theothers,allthesame…allthesame…andyetyousleep
inhisbed.Isawyou.”
Shit!Shewasintheroom.Ididn’timagineit.
“Yousawmeinhisbed?”Iwhisper.
“IneversleptinMaster’sbed,”shemurmurs.She’slikeafallenethereal
wraith.Halfaperson.Shelookssoslight,andinspiteofthefactthatshe’s
holdingagun,Isuddenlyfeeloverwhelmedwithsympathyforher.Herhands
flexaroundtheweapon,andmyeyeswiden,threateningtopopfrommy
head.
“WhydoesMasterlikeuslikethis?Itmakesmethinksomething…
something…
Masterisdark…Masterisadarkman,butIlovehim.”
No,no,he’snot.Ibristleinternally.He’snotdark.He’sagoodman,andhe’s
notinthedark.He’sjoinedmeinthelight.Andnowshe’shere,tryingtodrag
himbackwithsomewarpedideathatsheloveshim.
“Leila,doyouwanttogivemethegun?”Iasksoftly.Herhandgripsit
tightly,andshehugsittoherchest.
“Thisismine.It’sallIhaveleft.”Shegentlycaressesthegun.“Soshecan
joinherlove.”
Holyshit!Whichlove—Christian?It’slikeshe’spunchedmeinthestomach.
Iknowhewillbeheremomentarilytofindoutwhat’skeepingme.Doesshe
meantoshoothim?
Thethoughtissohorrific,Ifeelmythroatswellandacheasahugeknot
formsthere,almostchokingme,matchingthefearthat’sballedtightlyinmy
stomach.
Rightoncuethedoorburstsopen,andChristianisstandinginthedoorway,
Taylorbehindhim.
Glancingatmebriefly,Christian’seyessweepovermefromheadtotoe,and
Inoticethesmallsparkofreliefinhislook.Buthisreliefisfleetingashis
gazedartstoLeilaandstills,focusingonher,notwaveringintheslightest.
HeglaresatherwithanintensityIhavenotseenbefore,hiseyeswild,wide,
angry,andscared.
Ohno…ohno.
Leila’seyeswiden,andforamoment,itseemsherreasonreturns.Sheblinks
rapidlywhileherhandtightensoncemorearoundthegun.
Mybreathcatchesinmythroat,andmyheartstartsthumpingsoloudthatI
hearthebloodpoundinginmyears.No,no,no!
Myworldteetersprecariouslyinthehandsofthispoor,fucked-upwoman.
Willsheshoot?Bothofus?Christian?Thethoughtiscrippling.
Butafteraneternity,astimehangssuspendedaroundus,herheaddips
slightlyandshegazesupathim,throughherlonglashes,herexpression
contrite.
Christianholdsuphishand,signallingtoTaylortostaywhereheis.Taylor’s
blanchedfacebetrayshisfury.Ihaveneverseenhimlikethis,buthestands
stock-stillasChristianandLeilastareateachother.
IrealizeI’mholdingmybreath.Whatwillshedo?Whatwillhedo?Butthey
justcontinuetostareateachother.Christian’sexpressionisraw,fullofsome
unnamedemotion.Itcouldbepity,fear,affection…orisitlove?No,please,
notlove!
Hiseyesboreintoher,andagonizinglyslowly,theatmosphereinthe
apartmentchanges.ThetensionisbuildingsothatIcansensetheir
connection,thechargebetweenthem.
No!SuddenlyIfeelI’mtheinterloper,intrudingonthemastheystandgazing
ateachother.I’manoutsider—avoyeur,spyingonaforbidden,intimate
scenebehindclosedcurtains.
Christian’sintensegazeburnsbrighter,andhisbearingchangessubtly.He
lookstaller,moreangularsomehow,colder,andmoredistant.Irecognizethis
stance.I’veseenhimlikethisbefore—inhisplayroom.
Myscalppricklesanew.ThisisDominantChristian,andhowateasehe
looks.Whetherhewasborntoormadeforthisrole,Ijustdon’tknow,but
withasinkingheartandsickenedstomach,IwatchasLeilaresponds,herlips
parting,herbreathingpickingupasthefirstflushofcolourstainshercheeks.
No!It’ssuchanunwelcomeglimpseintohispast,agonizingtowitness.
Finally,hemouthsawordather.Ican’tmakeoutwhatitis,buttheeffecton
Leilaisimmediate.Shedropstotheflooronherknees,herheadbowed,and
thegunfallsandskittersuselesslyacrossthewoodenfloor.Holyfuck.
Christianwalkscalmlyovertowherethegunhasfallenandbendsgracefully
topickitup.Heregardsitwithill-disguiseddisgustthenslipsitintohis
jacketpocket.HegazesoncemoreatLeilaasshekneelscompliantlybeside
thekitchenisland.
“Anastasia,gowithTaylor,”hecommands.Taylorcrossesthethresholdand
staresatme.“Ethan,”Iwhisper.
“Downstairs.”Herespondsmatter-of-factly,hiseyesneverleavingLeila.
Downstairs.Nothere.Ethan’sokay.Relieffloodshardandfastthroughmy
blood,andforamomentIthinkI’mgoingtofaint.
“Anastasia,”Christian’stoneisclippedinwarning.
Iblinkathim,andI’msuddenlyunabletomove.Idon’twanttoleavehim—
leavehimwithher.HemovestostandbesideLeilaasshekneelsathisfeet.
He’shoveringoverher,protectively.She’ssostill,it’sunnatural.Ican’ttake
myeyesoffthetwoofthem—
together…
“FortheloveofGod,Anastasia,willyoudoasyou’retoldforonceinyour
lifeandgo!”
Christian’seyeslockwithmineasheglowersatme,hisvoiceablistering
coldshardofice.
Theangerbeneaththequiet,deliberatedeliveryofhiswordsispalpable.
Angryatme?Surelynot.Please—No!Ifeellikehe’sslappedmehard.Why
doeshewanttostaywithher?
“Taylor.TakeMissSteeledownstairs.Now.”
TaylornodsathimasIstareatChristian.
“Why?”Iwhisper.
“Go.Backtotheapartment.”Hiseyesblazefrostilyatme.“Ineedtobealone
withLeila.”Hesaysiturgently.
Ithinkhe’stryingtoconveysomekindofmessage,butI’msothrownbyall
that’shappenedthatI’mnotsure.IglancedownatLeilaandnoticeavery
smallsmilecrossherlips,butotherwisesheremainstrulyimpassive.A
completesubmissive.Fuck!Myheartchills.
Thisiswhatheneeds.Thisiswhathelikes.No!Iwanttowail.
“MissSteele.Ana.”Taylorholdshishandouttome,imploringmetocome.I
amimmobilizedbythehorrificspectaclebeforeme.Itconfirmsmyworst
fearsandplaysonallmyinsecurities:ChristianandLeilatogether—theDom
andhissub.
“Taylor,”Christianurges,andTaylorleansdownandscoopsmeintohis
arms.ThelastthingIseeasweleaveisChristiangentlystrokingLeila’shead
ashemurmurssomethingsoftlytoher.
No!
AsTaylorcarriesmedownthestairs,Ilielimplyinhisarmstryingtograsp
what’shappenedinthelasttenminutes—wasitlonger?Orshorter?The
conceptoftimehasdesertedme.
ChristianandLeila,LeilaandChristian…together?Whatishedoingwith
hernow?
“Jesus,Ana!Whatthefuckisgoingon?”
IamrelievedtoseeEthanashepacesthesmalllobby,stillcarryinghislarge
shoulderbag.Oh,thankheavenshe’sokay!WhenTaylorsetsmedown,I
practicallythrowmyselfatEthan,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisneck.
“Ethan.Oh,thankGod!”Ihughim,holdinghimclose.Iwassoworried,and
forabriefmoment,Ienjoysomerespitefrommyrisingpanicatwhatis
unfoldingupstairsinmyapartment.
“Whatthefuckisgoingon,Ana?Who’sthisguy?”
“Oh,sorry,Ethan,thisisTaylor.HeworkswithChristian.Taylor,thisis
Ethan,myroommate’sbrother.”
Theynodateachother.
“Ana,upstairs,what’sgoingon?Iwasfishingfortheapartmentkeyswhen
theseguysjumpedoutofnowhereandgrabbedthem.Oneofthemwas
Christian…”Ethan’svoicetrailsoff.
“Youwerelate…ThankGod.”
“Yeah.ImetafriendfromPullman—wehadaquickdrink.Upstairs,what’s
goingon?”“There’sagirl,anexofChristian’s.Inourapartment.She’sgone
postal,andChristianis…”Myvoicecracks,andtearspoolinmyeyes.
“Hey,”Ethanwhispersandpullsmecloseoncemore.“Hasanyonecalledthe
cops?”
“No,it’snotlikethat.”IsobintohischestandnowI’vestarted,Ican’tstop
crying,thetensionofthislatestepisodereleasingthroughmytears.Ethan
tightenshisarmsaroundme,butIsensehisbemusement.
“Hey,Ana,let’sgogetadrink.”Hepatsmybackawkwardly.Abruptly,Ifeel
awkward,too,andembarrassed,andinallhonesty,Iwanttobeonmyown.
ButInod,acceptinghisoffer.Iwanttobeawayfromhere,awayfrom
whatever’sgoingonupstairs.
IturntoTaylor.
“Wastheapartmentchecked?”Iaskhimtearfully,wipingmynosewiththe
backofmyhand.
“Thisafternoon.”Taylorshrugsapologeticallyashehandsmea
handkerchief.Helooksdevastated.“I’msorry,Ana,”hemurmurs.
Ifrown.Jeez,helookssoguilty.Idon’twanttomakehimfeelworse.
“Shedoesseemtohaveanuncannyabilitytoevadeus,”headdsscowling
again.
“EthanandIwillgoforaquickdrinkthenheadbacktoEscala.”Idrymy
eyes.
Taylorshufflesfromfoottofootuncomfortably.“Mr.Greywantedyoutogo
backtotheapartment,”hesaysquietly.
“Well,weknowwhereLeilaisnow.”Ican’tkeepthebitternessoutofmy
voice.“So,noneedforallthesecurity.TellChristianwe’llseehimlater.”
Tayloropenshismouthtospeakandthenwiselyclosesitagain.
“DoyouwanttoleaveyourbagwithTaylor?”IaskEthan.
“No,I’llkeepitwithme,thanks.”
EthannodsatTaylor,thenushersmeoutofthefrontdoor.Toolate,I
rememberthatI’veleftmypurseinthebackofAudi.Ihavenothing.
“Mypurse—”
“Don’tworry,”Ethanmurmurs,hisfacefullofconcern.“It’scool,it’son
me.”
Wechooseabaracrossthestreet,settlingontowoodenbarstoolsbythe
window.Iwanttoseewhat’sgoingon—who’scoming,andmoreimportantly
who’sgoing.Ethanhandsmeabottleofbeer.
“Troublewithanex?”hesaysgently.
“It’sabitmorecomplicatedthanthat,”Imutter,abruptlyguarded.Ican’ttalk
aboutthis—IhavesignedanNDA.Andforthefirsttime,Ireallyresentthat
factandthatChristian’ssaidnothingaboutrescindingit.
“I’vegottime,”Ethansayskindlyandtakesalongslugofhisbeer.
“She’sanex,fromyearsback.Sheleftherhusbandforsomeguy.Thena
coupleofweeksorsoagohewaskilledinacarcrash,andnowshe’scome
afterChristian.”Ishrug.
There,thatdidn’tgivetoomuchaway.
“Comeafterhim?”
“Shehadagun.”
“Whatthefuck!”
“Shedidn’tactuallythreatenanyonewithit.Ithinkshemeanttoharm
herself.Butthat’swhyIwassoworriedaboutyou.Ididn’tknowifyouwere
intheapartment.”
“Isee.Shesoundsunstable.”
“Yes,sheis.”
“Andwhat’sChristiandoingwithhernow?”
Theblooddrainsfrommyfaceandbilerisesinmythroat.“Idon’tknow,”I
whisper.
Ethan’seyeswiden—atlasthe’sgotit.
Thisisthecruxofmyproblem.Whatthefuckaretheydoing?Talking,I
hope.Justtalking.YetallIcanseeinmymind’seyeishishand,tenderly
strokingherhair.
She’sdisturbedandChristiancaresabouther,that’sallthisis,Irationalize.
Butinthebackofmymind,mysubconsciousisshakingherheadsadly.
It’smorethanthat.LeilawasabletofulfilhisneedsinawayIcannot.The
thoughtisdepressing.
Itrytofocusonallwe’vedoneinthelastfewdays—hisdeclarationoflove,
hisflirtyhumour,hisplayfulness.ButElena’swordskeepcomingbackto
tauntme.It’struewhattheysayabouteavesdroppers.
Don’tyoumissit…yourplayroom?
Ifinishmybeerinrecordtime,andEthanlinesupanother.Iamnotmuchof
acompanion,buttohiscredithestayswithme,chatting,tryingtoliftmy
spirits,talkingaboutBarbados,andKateandElliot’santics,whichis
wonderfullydistracting.Butit’sjustthat—
adistraction.
Mymind,myheart,mysoulareallstillinthatapartmentwithmyFifty
Shadesandthewomanwhousedtobehissubmissive.Awomanwhothinks
shestillloveshim.Awomanwholookslikeme.
Duringourthirdbeer,alargecruiserwithheavily-tintedwindowspullsup
nexttotheAudiinfrontoftheapartment.IrecognizeDr.Flynnasheclimbs
out,accompaniedbyawomandressedinwhatlooklikepalebluescrubs.I
glimpseTaylorasheletstheminthroughthefrontdoor.
“Who’sthat?”Ethanasks.
“Hisname’sDr.Flynn.Christianknowshim.”
“Whatkindofdoctor?”
“Ashrink.”
“Oh.”
Webothwatch,andafewminuteslatertheyareback.Christianiscarrying
Leilawhoiswrappedinablanket.What?Iwatchhorrifiedastheyallclimb
intothecruiser,anditspeedsaway.
Ethanglancesatmesympathetically,andIfeeldesolate,completelydesolate.
“CanIhavesomethingabitstronger?”IaskEthan,myvoicesmall.
“Sure.Whatwouldyoulike?”
“Abrandy.Please.”
Ethannodsandretreatstothebar.Igazethroughthewindowatthefront
door.MomentslaterTayloremerges,climbsintotheAudi,andheadsoff
towardEscala…afterChristian?Idon’tknow.
Ethanplacesalargebrandyinfrontofme.
“Comeon,Steele.Let’sgetdrunk.”
SoundslikethebestofferI’vehadinawhile.Weclinkglasses,andItakea
gulpoftheburningamberliquid,thefieryheatawelcomedistractionfrom
thehideousblossomingpaininmyheart.
It’slate,andIfeelfuzzy.EthanandIarelockedoutoftheapartment.He
insistsonwalkingmebacktoEscala,buthewon’tstay.He’scalledthefriend
hemetearlierforadrinkandarrangedtocrashwithhim.
“So,thisiswheretheMogullives.”Ethanwhistlesthroughhisteeth,
impressed.
Inod.
“Sureyoudon’twantmetocomeinwithyou?”heasks.
“No,Ineedtofacethis—orjustgotobed.”
“Seeyoutomorrow?”
“Yes.Thanks,Ethan.”Ihughim.
“You’llworkitout,Steele,”hemurmursagainstmyear.Hereleasesmeand
watcheswhileIheadintothebuilding.
“Laters,”hecalls.Iofferhimaweaksmileandawavethenpressthebutton
tocalltheelevator.
Theelevatordoorsopen,andIstepintoChristian’sapartment.Taylorisnot
waiting,whichisunusual.Openingthedoubledoors,Iheadtowardthegreat
room.Christianisonthephone,pacingtheroomnearthepiano.
“She’shere,”hesnaps.Heturnstoglareatmeasheswitchesoffhisphone.
“Wherethefuckhaveyoubeen?”hegrowlsbutdoesn’tmakeamovetoward
me.
Holycrap,he’sangrywithme?He’stheonethatjustspentGodknowshow
longwithhisloonyex-girlfriend,andhe’sangrywithme?
“Haveyoubeendrinking?”heasks,appalled.
“Abit.”Ididn’tthinkitwasthatobvious.
Hegaspsandrunshishandthroughhishair.“Itoldyoutocomebackhere.”
Hisvoiceismenacinglyquiet.“It’snowfifteenafterten.I’vebeenworried
aboutyou.”
“IwentforadrinkorthreewithEthanwhileyouattendedtoyourex,”Ihiss
athim.“Ididn’tknowhowlongyouweregoingtobe…withher.”
Henarrowshiseyesandtakesafewpacestowardmebutstops.
“Whydoyousayitthatlikethat?”
Ishrugandstaredownatmyfingers.
“Ana,what’swrong?”Andforthefirsttime,Ihearsomethingotherthan
angerinhisvoice.What?Fear?
Iswallow,tryingtoworkoutwhatIwanttosay.“Where’sLeila?”Iask
lookingupathim.“InapsychiatrichospitalinFremont,”hesays,andhis
faceisscrutinizingmine.“Ana,whatisit?”Hemovestowardmeuntilhe’s
standingrightinfrontofme.“What’swrong?”
hebreathes.
Ishakemyhead.“I’mnogoodforyou.”
“What?”hebreathes,hiseyeswideninginalarm.“Whydoyouthinkthat?
Howcanyoupossiblythinkthat?”
“Ican’tbeeverythingyouneed.”
“YouareeverythingIneed.
“Justseeingyouwithher…”Myvoicetrailsoff.
“Whydoyoudothistome?Thisisnotaboutyou,Ana.It’sabouther.”He
takesasharpbreath,runninghishandthroughhishairagain.“Atthemoment
she’saverysickgirl.”
“ButIfeltit…whatyouhadtogether.”
“What?No.”Hereachesforme,andIstepbackinstinctively.Hedropshis
hand,blinkingatme.Helooksasthoughhe’sseizedwithpanic.
“You’rerunning?”hewhispersashiseyeswidenwithfear.
IsaynothingasItrytocollectmyscatteredthoughts.
“Youcan’t,”hepleads.
“Christian…I—”Istruggletocollectmythoughts.WhatamItryingtosay?
Ineedtime,timetoprocessthis.Givemetime.
“No.No!”hesays.
“I…”
Helookswildlyaroundtheroom.Forinspiration?Fordivineintervention?I
don’tknow.
“Youcan’tgo.Ana,Iloveyou!”
“Iloveyou,too,Christian,it’sjust—”
“No…no!”hesaysindesperationandputsbothhandsonhishead.
“Christian…”
“No,”hebreathes,hiseyeswidewithpanic,andsuddenlyhedropstohis
kneesinfrontofme,headbowed,long-fingeredhandsspreadoutonhis
thighs.Hetakesadeepbreathanddoesn’tmove.
What?“Christian,whatareyoudoing?”
Hecontinuestostaredown,notlookingatme.
“Christian!Whatareyoudoing?”Myvoiceishigh-pitched.Hedoesn’tmove.
“Christian,lookatme!”Icommandinpanic.
Hisheadsweepsupwithouthesitation,andheregardsmepassivelywithhis
coolgreygaze—he’salmostserene…expectant.
HolyFuck…Christian.Thesubmissive.
Christianonhiskneesatmyfeet,holdingmewithhissteadygreygaze,isthe
mostchillingandsoberingsightIhaveeverseen—moresothanLeilaandher
gun.ThevaguealcoholicfuzzinessI’msufferingfromevaporatesinan
instantandisreplacedbyapricklingscalpandacreepingsenseofdoomas
theblooddrainsfrommyface.
Iinhalesharplywithshock.No.No,thisiswrong,sowrongandso
disturbing.
“Christian,please,don’tdothis.Idon’twantthis.”
Hecontinuestoregardmepassively,notmoving,sayingnothing.
Ohfuck.MypoorFifty.Myheartsqueezesandtwists.WhatthehellhaveI
donetohim?Tearsprickmyeyes.
“Whyareyoudoingthis?Talktome,”Iwhisper.
Heblinksonce.
“Whatwouldyoulikemetosay?”hesayssoftly,blandly,andforamoment
I’mrelievedthathe’stalking,butnotlikethis—no.No.
Tearsbegintooozedownmycheeks,andsuddenlyitistoomuchtoseehim
inthesameprostratepositionasthepatheticcreaturethatwasLeila.The
imageofapowerfulmanwho’sreallystillalittleboy,whowashorrifically
abusedandneglected,whofeelsunworthyoflovefromhisperfectfamilyand
hismuch-less-thanperfectgirlfriend…mylostboy…it’sheart-breaking.
Compassion,loss,anddespairallswellinmyheart,andIfeelachokingsense
ofdesperation.Iamgoingtohavetofighttobringhimback,tobringback
myFifty.
Thethoughtofmedominatinganyoneisappalling.Thethoughtof
dominatingChristianisnauseating.Itwouldmakemelikeher—thewoman
whodidthistohim.
Ishudderatthatthought,fightingthebileinmythroat.NowaycanIdothat.
NowaydoIwantthat.
Asmythoughtsclear,Icanseeonlyoneway.Nottakingmyeyesoffhis,I
sinktomykneesinfrontofhim.
Thewoodenfloorishardagainstmyshins,andIdashmytearsawayroughly
withthebackofmyhand.
Likethis,weareequals.We’reonalevel.ThisistheonlywayI’mgoingto
retrievehim.HiseyeswidenfractionallyasIstareupathim,butbeyondthat
hisexpressionandstancedon’tchange.
“Christian,youdon’thavetodothis,”Iplead.“I’mnotgoingtorun.I’vetold
youandtoldyouandtoldyou,Iwon’trun.”Allthat’shappened…it’s
overwhelming.Ijustneedsometimetothink…sometimetomyself.Why
doyoualwaysassumetheworst?”MyheartclenchesagainbecauseIknow;
it’sbecausehe’ssodoubting,sofullofself-loathing.
Elena’swordscomebacktohauntme.“Doessheknowhownegativeyouare
aboutyourself?Aboutallyourissues?”
Oh,Christian.FeargripsmyheartoncemoreandIstartbabbling,“Iwas
goingtosuggestgoingbacktomyapartmentthisevening.Younevergiveme
anytime…timetojustthinkthingsthrough,”Isob,andaghostofafrown
crosseshisface.“Justtimetothink.Webarelyknoweachother,andallthis
baggagethatcomeswithyou…Ineed…Ineedtimetothinkitthrough.And
nowthatLeilais…well,whateversheis…she’soffthestreetsandnota
threat…Ithought…Ithought…”MyvoicetrailsoffandIstareathim.He
regardsmeintentlyandIthinkhe’slistening
“SeeingyouwithLeila…”Iclosemyeyesasthepainfulmemoryofhis
interactionwithhisex-subgnawsatmeanew.“Itwassuchashock.Ihada
glimpseintohowyourlifehasbeen…and…”Igazedownatmyknotted
fingers,tearsstilltricklingdownmycheeks.“Thisisaboutmenotbeinggood
enoughforyou.Itwasaninsightintoyourlife,andIamsoscaredyou’llget
boredwithme,andthenyou’llgo…andI’llenduplikeLeila…ashadow.
BecauseIloveyou,Christian,andifyouleaveme,itwillbelikeaworld
withoutlight.I’llbeindarkness.Idon’twanttorun.I’mjustsofrightened
you’llleaveme…”
IrealizeasIsaythesewordstohim—inthehopethathe’slistening—what
myrealproblemis.Ijustdon’tgetwhyhelikesme.Ihaveneverunderstood
whyhelikesme.
“Idon’tunderstandwhyyoufindmeattractive,”Imurmur.“You’re,well,
you’reyou…andI’m…”Ishrugandgazeupathim.“Ijustdon’tseeit.
You’rebeautifulandsexyandsuccessfulandgoodandkindandcaring—all
thosethings—andI’mnot.AndIcan’tdothethingsyouliketodo.Ican’t
giveyouwhatyouneed.Howcouldyoubehappywithme?HowcanI
possiblyholdyou?”MyvoiceisawhisperasIexpressmydarkestfears.“I
haveneverunderstoodwhatyouseeinme.Andseeingyouwithher,it
broughtallthathome.”Isniffandwipemynosewiththebackofmyhand,
gazingathisimpassiveexpression.
Oh,he’ssoexasperating.Talktome,damnit!
“Areyougoingtokneelhereallnight?BecauseI’lldoit,too,”Isnapathim.
Ithinkhisexpressionsoftens—maybehelooksvaguelyamused.Butit’sso
hardtotell.
Icouldreachacrossandtouchhim,butthiswouldbeagrossabuseofthe
positionhe’sputmein.Idon’twantthat,butIdon’tknowwhathewants,or
whathe’stryingtosaytome.Ijustdon’tunderstand.
“Christian,please,please…talktome,”Ibeseechhim,wringingmyhandsin
mylap.
Iamuncomfortableonmyknees,butIcontinuetokneel,staringintohis
serious,beautiful,greyeyes,andIwait.
Andwait.
Andwait.
“Please,”Ibegoncemore.
Hisintensegazedarkenssuddenlyandheblinks.
“Iwassoscared,”hewhispers.
Oh,thanktheLord!Inside,mysubconsciousstaggersbackintoherarmchair,
saggingwithrelief,andtakesalargeswigofgin.
He’stalking!Gratitudeoverwhelmsme,andIswallow,tryingtocontainmy
emotionandthefreshboutoftearsthatthreatens.
Hisvoiceissoftandlow.“WhenIsawEthanarriveoutside,Iknewsomeone
hadletyouintoyourapartment.BothTaylorandIleaptoutofthecar.We
knewandtoseehertherelikethatwithyou—andarmed.IthinkIdieda
thousanddeaths,Ana.Someonethreateningyou…allmyworstfears
realized.Iwassoangry,withher,withyou,withTaylor,withmyself.”
Heshakeshisheadrevealinghisagony.“Ididn’tknowhowvolatileshe
wouldbe.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Ididn’tknowhowshe’dreact.”Hestops
andfrowns.“Andthenshegavemeaclue;shelookedsocontrite.AndIjust
knewwhatIhadtodo.”Hepauses,gazingatme,tryingtogaugemyreaction.
“Goon,”Iwhisper.
Heswallows.“Seeingherinthatstate,knowingthatImighthavesomething
todowithhermentalbreakdown…”Hecloseshiseyesoncemore.“Shewas
alwayssomischievousandlively.”Heshuddersandtakesaraspingbreath,
almostlikeasob.Thisistorturetolistento,butIkneel,attentive,lappingup
thisinsight.
“Shemighthaveharmedyou.Anditwouldhavebeenmyfault.”Hiseyes
driftoff,filledwithuncomprehendinghorror,andhe’ssilentoncemore.
“Butshedidn’t,”Iwhisper.“Andyouweren’tresponsibleforherbeingin
thatstate,Christian.”Iblinkupathim,encouraginghimtocontinue.
Thenitdawnsonmeafreshthateverythinghedidwastokeepmesafe,and
perhapsLeila,too,becausehealsocaresforher.Buthowmuchdoeshecare
forher?Thequestionlingersinmyhead,unwelcome.Hesayshelovesme,
butthenhewassoharsh,throwingmeoutofmyownapartment.
“Ijustwantedyougone,”hemurmurs,withhisuncannyabilitytoreadmy
thoughts.
“Iwantedyouawayfromthedanger,and…You.Just.Wouldn’t.Go,”he
hissesthroughclenchedteethandshakeshishead.Hisexasperationis
palpable.
Hegazesatmeintently.“AnastasiaSteele,youarethemoststubbornwoman
Iknow.”
Hecloseshiseyesandshakeshisheadoncemoreindisbelief.
Oh,he’sback.Ibreathealong,cleansingsighofrelief.
Heopenshiseyesagain,andhisexpressionisforlorn—sincere.“Youweren’t
goingtorun?”heasks.
“No!”
Hecloseshiseyesagainandhiswholebodyrelaxes.Whenheopenshiseyes,
Icanseehispainandanguish.
“Ithought—”Hestops.“Thisisme,Ana.Allofme…andI’mallyours.
WhatdoIhavetodotomakeyourealizethat?TomakeyouseethatIwant
youanywayIcangetyou.ThatIloveyou.”
“Iloveyou,too,Christian,andtoseeyoulikethisis…”Ichokeandmytears
startafresh.“IthoughtI’dbrokenyou.”
“Broken?Me?Ohno,Ana.Justtheopposite.”Hereachesoutandtakesmy
hand.
“You’remylifeline,”hewhispers,andhekissesmyknucklesbeforepressing
mypalmagainsthis.
Withhiseyeswideandfulloffear,hegentlytugsmyhandandplacesiton
hischestoverhisheart—intheforbiddenzone.Hisbreathingquickens.His
heartisbeatingafrantic,poundingtattoobeneathmyfingers.Hedoesn’ttake
hiseyesoffmine;hisjawistense,histeethclenched.
Igasp.OhmyFifty!He’slettingmetouchhim.Andit’slikealltheairinmy
lungshasvaporized—gone.Thebloodispoundinginmyearsastherhythm
ofmyheartrisestomatchhis.
Hereleasesmyhand,leavingitinplaceoverhisheart.Iflexmyfingers
slightly,feelingthewarmthofhisskinbeneaththethinfabricofhisshirt.
He’sholdinghisbreath.Ican’tbearit.Imaketomovemyhand.
“No,”hesaysquicklyandplaceshishandoncemoreovermine,pressingmy
fingersagainsthim.“Don’t.”
Emboldenedbythesetwowords,Ishuffleclosersoourkneesaretouching
andtentativelyraisemyotherhandsothatheknowsexactlywhatIintendto
do.Hiseyesgrowwiderbuthedoesn’tstopme.
GentlyIstarttoundothebuttonsonhisshirt.It’strickywithonehand.Iflex
myfingersbeneathhishandandheletsgo,allowingmetousebothhandsto
undohisshirt.Myeyesdon’tleavehisasIpullhisshirtopen,revealinghis
chest.
Heswallows,andhislipspartashisbreathingincreases,andIsensehisrising
panic,buthedoesn’tpullaway.Ishestillinsubmode?Ihavenoidea.
ShouldIdothis?Idon’twanttohurthim,physicallyormentally.Thesightof
himlikethis,offeringhimselftome,hasbeenawake-upcall.
Ireachup,andmyhandhoversoverhischest,andIstareathim…askinghis
permission.Verysubtlyhetiltshisheadtooneside,steelinghimselfin
anticipationofmytouch,andthetensionradiatesfromhim,butthistimeit’s
notinanger—it’sinfear.
Ihesitate.CanIreallydothistohim?
“Yes,”hebreathes—againwiththeweirdabilitytoanswermyunspoken
questions.
Iextendmyfingertipsintohischesthairandlightlybrushthemdownhis
sternum.Hecloseshiseyes,andhisfacecreasesasifhe’sexperiencing
intolerablepain.It’sunbearabletowitness,soIliftmyfingersimmediately,
buthequicklygrabsmyhandandreplacesitfirmly,flatonhisbarechestso
thatthehairticklesmypalm.
“No,”hesays,hisvoicestrained.“Ineedto.”
Hiseyesarescrewedupsotightly.Thismustbeagony.It’strulytormenting
towatch.
CarefullyIletmyfingersstrokeacrosshischesttohisheart,marvellingatthe
feelofhim,terrifiedthatthisisasteptoofar.
Heopenshiseyes,andtheyaregreyfire,blazingatme.
Holycow.Hislookisblistering,feral,beyondintense,andhisbreathingis
rapid.Itstirsmyblood.Isquirmunderhisgaze.
Hehasn’tstoppedme,soIrunmyfingertipsacrosshischestagain,andhis
mouthgoesslack.He’spanting,andIdon’tknowifit’sfromfear,or
somethingelse.
I’vewantedtokisshimthereforsolongthatIleanuponmykneesandhold
hisgazeforamoment,makingmyintentionperfectlyclear.ThenIbendand
gentlyplantasoftkissabovehisheart,feelinghiswarm,sweet-smellingskin
beneathmylips.
HisstrangledgroanmovesmesomuchthatIsitbackonmyheels,fearfulof
whatI’llseeonhisface.Hiseyesarescrewedtightlyshut,buthehasn’t
moved.
“Again,”hewhispers,andIleanintohischestoncemore,thistimetokiss
oneofhisscars.Hegasps,andIkissanotherandanother.Hegroansloudly,
andsuddenlyhisarmsarearoundme,andhishandisinmyhair,pullingmy
headuppainfullysothatmylipsmeethisinsistentmouth.Andwe’rekissing,
myfingersknottingintohishair.
“Oh,Ana,”hebreathes,andhetwistsandpullsmedownontothefloorso
thatIamunderneathhim.Ibringmyhandsuptocuphisbeautifulface,and
inthatmoment,Ifeelhistears.
He’scrying…no.No!
“Christian,please,don’tcry.ImeantitwhenIsaidI’dneverleaveyou.Idid.
IfIgaveyouanyotherimpression,I’msosorry…please,pleaseforgiveme.
Iloveyou.Iwillalwaysloveyou.”
Heloomsoverme,gazingdownintomyface,andhisexpressionissopained.
“Whatisit?”
Hiseyesgrowlarger.
“WhatisthissecretthatmakesyouthinkI’llrunforthehills?Thatmakes
yousodeterminedtobelieveI’llgo?”Iplead,myvoicetremulous.“Tellme,
Christian,please…”
Hesitsup,thoughthistimehecrosseshislegsandIfollowsuit,mylegs
outstretched.
VaguelyIwonderifwecangetoffthefloor?ButIdon’twanttointerrupthis
trainofthought.He’sfinallygoingtoconfideinme.
Hegazesdownatme,andhelooksutterlydesolate.Ohshit—it’sbad.
“Ana…”Hepauses,searchingforthewords,hisexpressionpained…Oh?
Wherethehellisthisgoing?
Hetakesadeepbreathandswallows.“I’masadist,Ana.Iliketowhiplittle
brown-hairedgirlslikeyoubecauseyoualllooklikethecrackwhore—my
birthmother.I’msureyoucanguesswhy.”Hesaysitinarushasifhe’shad
thesentenceinhisheadfordaysanddaysandisdesperatetoberidofit.
Myworldstops.Ohno.
ThisisnotwhatIexpected.Thisisbad.Reallybad.Igazeathim,tryingto
understandtheimplicationofwhathe’sjustsaid.Itdoesexplainwhyweall
lookthesame.
MyimmediatethoughtisthatLeilawasright—“Masterisdark.”
IrecallthefirstconversationIhadwithhimabouthistendencieswhenwe
wereintheRedRoomofPain.
“Yousaidyouweren’tasadist,”Iwhisper,desperatelytryingtounderstand
…makesomeexcuseforhim.
“No,IsaidIwasaDominant.IfIliedtoyou,itwasalieofomission.I’m
sorry.”Helooksbrieflydownathismanicuredfingernails.
Ithinkhe’smortified.Mortifiedaboutlyingtome?Oraboutwhatheis?
“Whenyouaskedmethatquestion,Ihadenvisionedaverydifferent
relationshipbetweenus,”hemurmurs.Icantellbyhisgazethathe’sterrified.
Thenithitsmelikeawreckingball.Ifhe’sasadist,hereallyneedsallthat
whippingandcaningshit.Ohfuck.Iputmyheadinmyhands.
“Soit’strue,”Iwhisper,glancingupathim.“Ican’tgiveyouwhatyou
need.”Thisisit—thisreallydoesmeanweareincompatible.
Theworldstartsfallingawayatmyfeet,collapsingaroundmeaspanicgrips
mythroat.Thisisit.Wecan’tdothis.
Hefrowns.“No,No,No.Ana.No.Youcan.YoudogivemewhatIneed.”He
clencheshisfists.“Pleasebelieveme,”hemurmurs,hiswordsan
impassionedplea.
“Idon’tknowwhattobelieve,Christian.Thisissofucked-up,”Iwhisper,my
throathoarseandachingasitclosesin,chokingmewithunshedtears.
Hiseyesarewideandluminouswhenhelooksatmeagain.
“Ana,believeme.AfterIpunishedyouandyouleftme,myworldview
changed.Iwasn’tjokingwhenIsaidIwouldavoideverfeelinglikethat
again.”Hegazesatmewithpainedentreaty.“Whenyousaidyoulovedme,it
wasarevelation.Noone’seversaidittomebefore,anditwasasifI’dlaid
somethingtorest—ormaybeyou’dlaidittorest,Idon’tknow.Dr.Flynnand
Iarestillindeepdiscussionaboutit.”
Oh.Hopeflaresbrieflyinmyheart.Perhapswe’llbeokay.Iwantustobe
okay.Don’tI?“Whatdoesthatallmean?”Iwhisper.
“ItmeansIdon’tneedit.Notnow.”
What?“Howdoyouknow?Howcanyoubesosure?”
“Ijustknow.Thethoughtofhurtingyou…inanyrealway…it’sabhorrent
tome.”
“Idon’tunderstand.Whataboutrulersandspankingandallthatkinky
fuckery?”
Herunsahandthroughhishairandalmostsmilesbutinsteadsighsruefully.
“I’mtalkingabouttheheavyshit,Anastasia.YoushouldseewhatIcando
withacaneoracat.”
Mymouthdropsopen,stunned.“I’drathernot.”
“Iknow.Ifyouwantedtodothat,thenfine…butyoudon’tandIgetit.I
can’tdoallthatshitwithyouifyoudon’twantto.Itoldyouoncebefore,you
haveallthepower.Andnow,sinceyoucameback,Idon’tfeelthat
compulsion,atall.”
Igapeathimforamomenttryingtotakethisallin.“Whenwemet,that’s
whatyouwanted,though?”
“Yes,undoubtedly.”
“Howcanyourcompulsionjustgo,Christian?LikeI’msomekindof
panacea,andyou’re—forwantofabetterword—cured?Idon’tgetit.”
Hesighsoncemore.“Iwouldn’tsaycured…Youdon’tbelieveme?”
“Ijustfindit—unbelievable.Whichisdifferent.”
“Ifyou’dneverleftme,thenIprobablywouldn’tfeelthisway.Youwalking
outonmewasthebestthingyoueverdid…forus.Itmademerealizehow
muchIwantyou,justyou,andImeanitwhenIsayI’lltakeyouanywayI
canhaveyou.”
Igazeathim.CanIbelievethis?Myheadhurtsjusttryingtothinkthisall
through,anddeepdownIfeel…numb.
“You’restillhere.Ithoughtyouwouldbeoutofthedoorbynow,”he
whispers.
“Why?BecauseImightthinkyou’reasickoforwhippingandfucking
womenwholooklikeyourmother?Whateverwouldgiveyouthat
impression?”Ihissathim,lashingout.Heblanchesatmyharshwords.
“Well,Iwouldn’thaveputitquitelikethat,butyes,”hesays,hiseyeswide
andhurt.
HisexpressionissoberingandIregretmyoutburst.Ifrown,feelingapangof
guilt.
Oh,whatamIgoingtodo?Igazeathimandhelookscontrite,sincere…he
lookslikemyFifty.
AndunbiddenIrecallthephotographinhischildhoodbedroom,andinthat
momentrealizewhythewomaninitlookedsofamiliar.Shelookedlikehim.
Shemusthavebeenhisbiologicalmother.
Hiseasydismissalofhercomestomind:Nooneofconsequence…She’s
responsibleforallthis…andIlooklikeher…Fuck!
Hestaresatme,eyesraw,andIknowhe’swaitingformynextmove.He
seemsgenuine.He’ssaidhelovesme,butI’mreallyconfused.
Thisisallsofucked-up.He’sreassuredmeaboutLeila,butnowIknowwith
morecertaintythaneverhowshewasabletogivehimhiskicks.Thethought
iswearyingandunpalatable.Iamsotiredofallthis.
“Christian,I’mexhausted.Canwediscussthistomorrow?Iwanttogoto
bed.”
Heblinksatmeinsurprise.“You’renotgoing?”
“Doyouwantmetogo?”
“No!Ithoughtyouwouldleaveonceyouknew.”
Allthetimeshe’salludedtomeleavingonceIknewhisdarkestsecretsflash
throughmymind…andnowIknow.Shit.Masterisdark.
ShouldIleave?Igazeathim,thiscrazymanthatIlove,yeslove.
CanIleavehim?Ilefthimoncebefore,anditnearlybrokeme…andhim.I
lovehim.
Iknowthatinspiteofthisrevelation.
“Don’tleaveme,”hewhispers.
“Oh,forcryingoutloud—no!Iamnotgoingtogo!”Ishoutandit’s
cathartic.There,I’vesaidit.Iamnotleaving.
“Really?”Hiseyeswiden.
“WhatcanIdotomakeyouunderstandIwillnotrun?WhatcanIsay?”
Hegazesatme,revealinghisfearandanguishagain.Heswallows.“Thereis
onethingyoucando.”
“What?”Isnap.
“Marryme,”hewhispers.
What?Didhereallyjust—
Forthesecondtimeinlessthanhalfanhourmyworldstops.
Holyfuck.Istareatthedeeplyfucked-upmanIlove.Ican’tbelievewhathe’s
justsaid.
Marriage?He’sproposingmarriage?Ishekidding?Ican’thelpit—asmall,
nervous,disbelievinggiggleeruptsfromdeepinside.Ibitemyliptostopit
fromturningintofull-scalehystericallaughterandfailmiserably.Ilieback
flatonthefloorandsurrendermyselftothelaughter,laughingasI’venever
laughedbefore,hugehealingcathartichowlsoflaughter.
AndforamomentIamonmyown,lookingdownatthisabsurdsituation,a
giggling,overwhelmedgirlbesideabeautifulfucked-upboy.Idrapemyarm
acrossmyeyes,asmylaughterturnstoscaldingtears.No,no…thisistoo
much.
Asthehysteriasubsides,Christiangentlyliftsmyarmoffmyface.Iturnand
gazeupathim.
He’sleaningoverme.Hismouthistwistedwithwryamusement,buthiseyes
areaburninggrey,maybewounded.Ohno.
Hegentlywipesawayastraytearwiththebackofhisknuckles.“Youfind
myproposalamusing,MissSteele?”
Oh,Fifty!Reachingup,Icaresshischeektenderly,enjoyingthefeelofthe
stubblebeneathmyfingers.Lord,Ilovethisman.
“Mr.Grey…Christian.Yoursenseoftimingiswithoutdoubt…”Igazeup
athimaswordsfailme.
Hesmirksatme,butthecrinklingaroundhiseyesshowsmethathe’shurt.
It’ssobering.“You’recuttingmetothequickhere,Ana.Willyoumarryme?”
Isitupandleanoverhim,placingmyhandsonhisknees.Istareintohis
lovelyface.
“Christian,I’vemetyourpsychoexwithagun,beenthrownoutofmy
apartment,hadyougothermonuclearFiftyonme—”
Heopenshismouthtospeak,butIholdupmyhand.Heobedientlyshutshis
mouth.
“You’vejustrevealedsome,quitefrankly,shockinginformationabout
yourself,andnowyou’veaskedmetomarryyou.”
Hemoveshisheadfromsidetosideasifconsideringthefacts.He’samused.
Thankheavens.
“Yes,Ithinkthat’safairandaccuratesummaryofthesituation,”hesays
dryly.
Ishakemyheadathim.“Whateverhappenedtodelayedgratification?”
“Igotoverit,andI’mnowafirmadvocateofinstantgratification.Carpe
diem,Ana,”
hewhispers.
“LookChristian,I’veknownyouforaboutthreeminutes,andthere’ssomuch
moreIneedtoknow.I’vehadtoomuchtodrink,I’mhungry,I’mtired,andI
wanttogotobed.
IneedtoconsideryourproposaljustasIconsideredthatcontractyougave
me.And”—Ipressmylipstogethertoshowmydispleasurebutalsoto
lightenthemoodbetweenus—
“thatwasn’tthemostromanticproposal.”
Hetiltshisheadtoonesideandhislipsquirkupinasmile.“Fairpointwell
made,asever,MissSteele,”hebreathes,hisvoicelacedwithrelief.“Sothat’s
notano?”
Isigh.“No,Mr.Grey,it’snotano,butit’snotayeseither.You’reonlydoing
thisbecauseyou’rescared,andyoudon’ttrustme.”
“No,I’mdoingthisbecauseI’vefinallymetsomeoneIwanttospendtherest
ofmylifewith.”
Oh.MyheartskipsabeatandinsideImelt.Howisitthatinthemiddleofthe
mostfucked-upsituationshecansaythemostromanticthings?Mymouth
popsopeninshock.
“Ineverthoughtthatwouldhappentome,”hecontinues,hisexpression
radiatingpureundilutedsincerity.
Igapeathim,searchingfortherightwords.
“CanIthinkaboutit…please?Andthinkabouteverythingelsethat’s
happenedtoday?Whatyou’vejusttoldme?Youaskedforpatienceandfaith.
Well,backatyou,Grey.
Ineedthosenow.”
Hiseyessearchmineandafterabeat,heleansforwardandtucksmyhair
behindmyear.“Icanlivewiththat.”Hekissesmequicklyonthelips.“Not
veryromantic,eh?”Heraiseshiseyebrows,andIgivehimanadmonishing
shakeofmyhead.“Heartsandflowers?”heaskssoftly.
Inodandhegivesmeaslightsmile.
“You’rehungry?”
“Yes.”
“Youdidn’teat.”Hiseyesfrostandhisjawhardens.
“No,Ididn’teat.”Isitbackonmyheelsandregardhimpassively.“Being
thrownoutofmyapartmentafterwitnessingmyboyfriendinteracting
intimatelywithhisex-submissiveconsiderablysuppressedmyappetite.”I
glareathimandfistmyhandsonmyhips.
Christianshakeshisheadandrisesgracefullytohisfeet.Oh,finallywecan
getoffthefloor.Heholdshishandouttome.
“Letmefixyousomethingtoeat,”hesays.
“Can’tIjustgotobed?”ImutterwearilyasIplacemyhandinhis.
Hepullsmeup.Iamstiff.Hegazesdownatme,hisexpressionsoft.
“No,youneedtoeat.Come.”BossyChristianisback,andit’sarelief.
Heleadsmetothekitchenareaandushersmetowardabarstoolasheheads
tothefridge.Iglanceatmywatch.Jeez,nearlyeleventhirtyandIhavetoget
upforworkinthemorning.
“Christian,I’mreallynothungry.”
Hestudiouslyignoresmeasheferretsthroughtheenormousfridge.
“Cheese?”heasks.“Notatthishour.”
“Pretzels?”
“Inthefridge?No,”Isnap.
Heturnsandgrinsatme.“Youdon’tlikepretzels?”
“Notateleventhirty.Christian,I’mgoingtobed.Youcanrummagearoundin
yourrefrigeratorfortherestofthenightifyouwant.I’mtired,andI’vehad
fartoointerestingaday.AdayI’dliketoforget.”Islideoffthestoolandhe
scowlsatme,butrightnowIdon’tcare.Iwanttogotobed—I’mexhausted.
“Macaroniandcheese?”Heholdsupawhitebowlliddedwithfoil.Helooks
sohopefulandendearing.
“Youlikemacaroniandcheese?”Iask.
Henodsenthusiastically,andmyheartmelts.Helookssoyoungallofa
sudden.Whowouldhavethought?ChristianGreylikesnurseryfood.
“Youwantsome?”heasks,soundinghopeful.Ican’tresisthimandI’m
hungry.
Inodandgivehimaweaksmile.Hisansweringgrinisbreath-taking.He
takesthefoiloffthebowlandpopsitintothemicrowave.Iperchbackonthe
stoolandwatchthebeautythatisMr.ChristianGrey—themanwhowantsto
marryme—movegracefullyandwitheasearoundhiskitchen.
“Soyouknowhowtousethemicrowavethen?”Iteasesoftly.
“Ifit’sinapacket,Icanusuallydosomethingwithit.It’srealfoodIhavea
problemwith.”
Icannotbelievethisisthesamemanwhowasonhiskneesinfrontofmenot
halfanhourbefore.He’shisusualmercurialself.Hesetsoutplates,cutlery,
andplacematsonthebreakfastbar.
“It’sverylate,”Imutter.
“Don’tgotoworktomorrow.”
“Ihavetogotoworktomorrow.MybossisleavingforNewYork.”
Christianfrowns.“Doyouwanttogotherethisweekend?”
“Icheckedtheweatherforecast,anditlookslikerain,”Isay,shakingmy
head.
“Oh,sowhatdoyouwanttodo?”
Themicrowave’spingannouncesthatoursupperiswarmedthrough.
“Ijustwanttogetthroughonedayatatimeatthemoment.Allthis
excitementis…
tiring.”Iraiseaneyebrowathim,whichhejudiciouslyignores.
Christianplacesthewhitebowlinbetweenourplacesettingsandtakeshis
seatbesideme.Helooksdeepinthought,distracted.Idishthemacaronionto
ourplates.Itsmellsdivine,andmymouthwatersinanticipation.Iam
famished.
“SorryaboutLeila,”hemurmurs.
“Whyareyousorry?”Mmm,themacaronitastesasgoodasitsmells.My
stomachgrumblesgratefully.
“Itmusthavebeenaterribleshockforyou,findingherinyourapartment.
Taylorsweptitearlierhimself.He’sveryupset.”
“Idon’tblameTaylor.”
“NeitherdoI.He’sbeenoutlookingforyou.”
“Really?Why?”
“Ididn’tknowwhereyouwere.Youleftyourpurse,yourphone.Icouldn’t
eventrackyou.Wheredidyougo?”heasks.Hisvoiceissoft,butthere’san
ominousundercurrenttohiswords.
“EthanandIjustwenttoabaracrossthestreet.SoIcouldwatchwhatwas
happening.”
“Isee.”Theatmospherebetweenushaschangedsubtly.It’snolongerlight.
Okay,well…twocanplaythatgame.Let’sjustbringthisbacktoyou,Fifty.
Tryingtosoundnonchalant,wantingtoassuagemyburningcuriositybut
dreadingtheanswer,Iask,
“SowhatdidyoudowithLeilaintheapartment?”
Iglanceupathim,andhefreezeswithhisforkfulofmacaronisuspendedin
mid-air.
Ohno,that’snotgood.
“Youreallywanttoknow?”
Aknottightensinmygutandmyappetitevanishes.“Yes,”Iwhisper.Do
you?Doyoureally?Mysubconscioushasthrownheremptybottleofginon
thefloorandissittingupinherarmchair,glaringatmeinhorror.
Christian’smouthflattensintoaline,andhehesitates.“Wetalked,andIgave
herabath.”Hisvoiceishoarse,andhecontinuesquicklywhenImakeno
response.“AndIdressedherinsomeofyourclothes.Ihopeyoudon’tmind.
Butshewasfilthy.”
Holyfuck.Hebathedher?
Whataninappropriatethingtodo.I’mreeling,staringdownatmyuneaten
macaroni.
Thesightofitnowmakesmenauseous.
Trytorationalizethis,mysubconsciouscoaches.Thatcool,intellectualpart
ofmybrainknowsthathejustdidthatbecauseshewasdirty,butit’stoo
hard.Myfragilejealousselfcan’tbearit.
SuddenlyIwanttocry—notsuccumbtoladyliketearsthattrickledecorously
downmycheeks,buthowlingatthemooncrying.Itakeadeepbreathto
suppresstheurge,butmythroatisaridanduncomfortablefrommyunshed
tearsandsobs.
“ItwasallIcoulddo,Ana,”hesayssoftly.
“Youstillhavefeelingsforher?”
“No!”hesays,appalled,andcloseshiseyes,hisexpressiononeofanguish.I
turnaway,staringoncemoreatmynauseatingfood.Ican’tbeartolookat
him.
“Toseeherlikethat—sodifferent,sobroken.Icareabouther,onehuman
beingtoanother.”Heshrugsasiftoshakeoffanunpleasantmemory.Jeez,is
heexpectingmysympathy?
“Ana,lookatme.”
Ican’t.IknowthatifIdo,Iwillburstintotears.Thisisjusttoomuchto
absorb.I’mlikeanoverflowingtankofgasoline—full,beyondcapacity.
Thereisnoroomforanymore.Isimplycannotcopewithanymorecrap.I
willcombustandexplode,anditwillbeuglyifItry.Jeez!
Christiancaringforhisex-subinsuchanintimatefashion—theimageflashes
throughmybrain.Bathingher,forfuck’ssake—naked.Aharsh,painful
shudderwracksmybody.
“Ana.”
“What?”
“Don’t.Itdoesn’tmeananything.Itwaslikecaringforachild,abroken,
shatteredchild,”hemutters.
Whatthehellwouldheknowaboutcaringforachild?Thiswasawomanhe
hadaveryfull-on,deviantsexualrelationshipwith.
Oh,thishurts.Itakeadeep,steadyingbreath.Orperhapshe’sreferringto
himself.
He’sthebrokenchild.Thatmakesmoresense…ormaybeitmakesnosense
atall.Oh,thisissofucked-up,andsuddenlyI’mbonecrushinglytired.Ineed
sleep.
“Ana?”
Istand,takemyplatetothesink,andscrapethecontentsintothetrash.
“Ana,please.”
Iwhirlaroundandfacehim.“Juststop,Christian!Juststopwiththe‘Ana,
please’!”Ishoutathim,andmytearsstarttotrickledownmyface.“I’vehad
enoughofallthisshittoday.Iamgoingtobed.Iamtiredandemotional.
Nowletmebe.”
Iturnonmyheelandpracticallyruntothebedroom,takingwithmethe
memoryofhiswide-eyed,shockedstare.NicetoknowIcanshockhim,too.I
stripoutofmyclothesindouble-quicktime,andafterriflingthroughhis
chestofdrawers,dragononeofhisT-shirtsandheadforthebathroom.
Igazeatmyselfinthemirror,hardlyrecognizingthegaunt,pink-eyed,
blotchy-cheekedharridanstaringbackatme,andit’stoomuch.Isinktothe
floorandsurrendertotheoverwhelmingemotionIcannolongercontain,
sobbinghugechest-wrenchingsobs,finallylettingmytearsflowunrestrained.
“Hey,”Christian’ssaysgentlyashepullsmeintohisarms,“pleasedon’tcry,
Ana,please,”
hebegs.He’sonthebathroomfloor,andIaminhislap.Iputmyarmsaround
himandweepintohisneck.Cooingsoftlyintomyhair,hegentlystrokesmy
back,myhead.
“I’msorry,baby,”hewhispers,andthatmakesmecryharderandhughim
tighter.
Wesitlikethisforever.Eventually,whenI’mallcriedout,Christianstaggers
tohisfeet,holdingme,andcarriesmeintohisroomwherehelaysmedown
inthebed.Inafewmoments,he’sbesidemeandthelightsareoff.Hepulls
meintohisarms,huggingmetightly,andIfinallydriftoffintoadarkand
troubledsleep.
Iawakewithajolt.MyheadisfuzzyandI’mtoowarm.Christianiswrapped
aroundmelikeavine.HegrumblesinhissleepasIslipoutofhisarms,but
hedoesn’twake.SittingupIglanceatthealarmclock.It’sthreeinthe
morning.IneedanAdvilandadrink.Iswingmylegsoutofbedandmake
mywaytothekitcheninthegreatroom.
Inthefridge,Ifindacartonoforangejuiceandpourmyselfaglass.Hmm…
it’sdelicious,andmyfuzzyheadeasesimmediately.Ihuntthroughthe
cupboardslookingforsomepainkillersandeventuallycomeacrossaplastic
boxfullofmeds.IsinktwoAdvilandpourmyselfanotherorangejuice.
Wanderingtothegreatwallofglass,IlookoutonasleepingSeattle.The
lightstwinkleandwinkbeneathChristian’scastleinthesky,orshouldIsay
fortress?Ipressmyforeheadagainstthecoolwindow—it’sarelief.Ihaveso
muchtothinkaboutafteralltherevelationsofyesterday.Iplacemyback
againsttheglassandslidedownontothefloor.Thegreatroomiscavernous
inthedark,theonlylightcomingfromthethreelampsabovethekitchen
island.
CouldIlivehere,marriedtoChristian?Afterallthathe’sdonehere?Allthe
historythisplaceholdsforhim?
Marriage.It’salmostunbelievableandcompletelyunexpected.Butthen
everythingaboutChristianisunexpected.Mylipsquirkupwithirony.
ChristianGrey,expecttheunexpected—FiftyShadesofFucked-Up.
Mysmilefades.Ilooklikehismother.Thiswoundsme,deeply,andtheair
leavesmylungsinarush.Wealllooklikehismom.
HowthehelldoImoveonfromthedisclosureofthatlittlesecret?Nowonder
hedidn’twanttotellme.Butsurelyhecan’tremembermuchofhismother.I
wonderoncemore,ifIshouldtalktoDr.Flynn.WouldChristianletme?
Perhapshecouldfillinthegaps.
Ishakemyhead.Ifeelworldweary,butI’menjoyingthecalmserenityofthe
greatroomanditsbeautifulworksofart—coldandaustere,butintheirown
way,stillbeautifulintheshadowsandsurelyworthafortune.CouldIlive
here?Forbetter,forworse?Insick-nessandinhealth?Iclosemyeyes,lean
myheadbackagainsttheglass,andtakeadeep,cleansingbreath.
Thepeacefultranquillityisshatteredbyavisceral,primevalcrythatmakes
everysinglehaironmybodystandtoattention.Christian!Holyfuck—what’s
happened?Iamonmyfeet,runningbacktothebedroombeforetheechoesof
thathorriblesoundhavediedaway,myheartthumpingwithfear.
Ifliponeofthelightswitches,andChristian’sbedsidelightcomestolife.
He’stossingandturning,writhinginagony.No!Hecriesoutagain,andthe
eerie,devastatingsoundlancesthroughmeanew.
Shit—anightmare!
“Christian!”Ileanoverhim,grabhisshoulders,andshakehimawake.He
openshiseyes,andtheyarewildandvacant,scanningquicklyroundthe
emptyroombeforecomingbacktorestonme.
“Youleft,youleft,youmusthaveleft,”hemumbles—hiswide-eyedstare
becomingaccusatory—andhelookssolost,itwrenchesatmyheart.Poor
Fifty.
“I’mhere.”Isitdownonthebedbesidehim.“I’mhere,”Imurmursoftlyin
anefforttoreassurehim.Ireachouttoplacemypalmonthesideofhisface,
tryingtosoothehim.
“Youweregone,”hewhispersrapidly.Hiseyesarestillwildandfrightened,
butheseemstobecalming.
“Iwenttogetadrink.Iwasthirsty.”
Hecloseshiseyesandrubshisface.Whenheopensthemagain,helooksso
desolate.
“You’rehere.Oh,thankGod.”Hereachesforme,andgrabbingmetightly,he
pullsmedownonthebedbesidehim.
“Ijustwentforadrink,”Imurmur.
Oh,theintensityofhisfear…Icanfeelit.HisT-shirtisdrenchedinsweat,
andhisheartbeatispoundingashehugsmeclose.He’sgazingatmeasif
reassuringhimselfthatIamreallyhere.Igentlystrokehishairandthenhis
cheek.
“Christian,please.I’mhere.I’mnotgoinganywhere,”Isaysoothingly.
“Oh,Ana,”hebreathes.Hegraspsmychintoholdmeinplace,andthenhis
mouthisonmine.Desiresweepsthroughhim,andunbiddenmybody
responds—it’ssotiedandattunedtohim.Hislipsareatmyear,mythroat,
thenbackatmymouth,histeethgentlypullingatmylowerlip,hishand
travelingupmybodyfrommyhiptomybreast,draggingmyT-shirtup.
Caressingme,feelinghiswaythroughthedipsandshallowsofmyskin,he
elicitsthesamefamiliarreaction,histouchsendingshiversthroughme.I
moanashishandcupsmybreastandhisfingerstightenovermynipple.
“Iwantyou,”hemurmurs.
“I’mhereforyou.Onlyyou,Christian.”
Hegroansandkissesmeoncemore,passionately,withafervourand
desperationI’venotfeltfromhimbefore.GrabbingthehemofhisT-shirt,I
tugandhehelpsmepullitoffoverhishead.Kneelingbetweenmylegs,he
hastilypullsmeuprightanddragsmyT-shirtoff.Hiseyesareserious,
wanting,fullofdarksecrets—exposed.Hefoldshishandsaroundmyface
andkissesme,andwesinkdownintothebedoncemore,histhighbetween
bothofminesothathe’shalf-lyingontopofme.Hiserectionisrigidagainst
myhipthroughhisboxerbriefs.Hewantsme,buthiswordsfromearlier
choosethismomenttocomebackandhauntme,whathesaidabouthis
mother.Andit’slikeabucketofcoldwateronmylibido.Fuck.Ican’tdo
this.Notnow.
“Christian…Stop.Ican’tdothis,”Iwhisperurgentlyagainsthismouth,my
handspushingonhisupperarms.
“What?What’swrong?”hemurmursandstartskissingmyneck,runningthe
tipofhistonguelightlydownmythroat.Oh…
“No,please.Ican’tdothis,notnow.Ineedsometime,please.”
“Oh,Ana,don’toverthinkthis,”hewhispersashenipsmyearlobe.
“Ah!”Igasp,feelingitinmygroin,andmybodybows,betrayingme.Thisis
soconfusing.
“Iamjustthesame,Ana.IloveyouandIneedyou.Touchme.Please.”He
rubshisnoseagainstmine,andhisquietheartfeltpleamovesmeandImelt.
Touchhim.Touchhimwhilewemakelove.Ohmy.
Herearsupoverme,gazingdown,andinthehalf-lightfromthedimmed
bedsidelight,Icantellthathe’swaiting,waitingformydecision,andhe’s
caughtinmyspell.
Ireachupandtentativelyplacemyhandonthesoftpatchofhairoverhis
sternum.Hegaspsandscruncheshiseyesclosedasifinpain,butIdon’ttake
myhandawaythistime.
Imoveituptohisshoulders,feelingthetremorrunthroughhim.Hegroans,
andIpullhimdowntomeandplacebothmyhandsonhisback,whereI’ve
nevertouchedhimbefore,onhisshoulderblades,holdinghimtome.His
strangledmoanarousesmelikenothingelse.
Heburieshisheadinmyneck,kissingandsuckingandbitingme,before
trailinghisnoseupmychinandkissingme,histonguepossessingmymouth,
hishandsmovingovermybodyoncemore.Hislipsmovedown…down…
downtomybreasts,worshippingastheygo,andmyhandsstayonhis
shouldersandhisback,enjoyingtheflexandrippleofhisfinelyhoned
muscles,hisskinstilldampfromhisnightmare.Hislipscloseovermy
nipple,pullingandtugging,sothatitrisestogreethisgloriousskilledmouth.
Igroanandrunmyfingernailsacrosshisback.Andhegasps,astrangled
moan.
“Oh,fuck,Ana,”hechokes,andit’shalfcry,halfgroan.Ittearsatmyheart,
butalsodeepinsideme,tighteningallthemusclesbelowmywaist.Oh,what
Icandotohim!MyinnergoddessiswrithingwithwantandI’mpanting
now,matchinghistorturedbreathswithmyown.
Hishandtravelssouth,overmybelly,downtomysex—andhisfingersare
onme,theninme.Igroanashemoveshisfingersaroundinsideme,inthat
way,andIpushmypelvisuptowelcomehistouch.
“Ana,”hebreathes.Hesuddenlyreleasesmeandsitsup;heremoveshis
boxerbriefsandleansovertothebedsidetabletograbafoilpacket.Hiseyes
areablazinggreyashepassesmethecondom.“Youwanttodothis?Youcan
stillsayno.Youcanalwayssayno,”
hemurmurs.
“Don’tgivemeachancetothink,Christian.Iwantyou,too.”Iripthepacket
openwithmyteethashekneelsbetweenmylegs,andwithtremblingfingers
Islideitontohim.
“Steady,”hesays.“Youaregoingtounmanme,Ana.”
ImarvelatwhatIcandotothismanwithmytouch.Hestretchesoutover
me,andfornowmydoubtsarepusheddownandlockedawayinthedark,
scarydepthsatthebackofmymind.I’mintoxicatedwiththisman,myman,
myFiftyShades.Heshiftssuddenly,completelytakingmebysurprise,soI
amontop.Whoa.
“You—takeme,”hemurmurs,hiseyesglowingwithaferalintensity.
Ohmy,andslowly,oh-so-slowly,Isinkdownontohim.Hetiltshishead
backandcloseshiseyesashegroans.Igrabhishandsandstarttomove,
revellinginthefullnessofmypossession,revellinginhisreaction,watching
himunravelbeneathme.Ifeellikeagoddess.Ileandownandkisshischin,
runningmyteethalonghisstubbledjaw.Hetastesdelicious.Heclaspsmy
hipsandsteadiesmyrhythm,slowandeasy.
“Ana,touchme…please.”
Oh.Ileanforwardandsteadymyselfwithmyhandsonhischest.Andhe
callsout,hiscryalmostasob,andhethrustsdeepinsideme.
“Ahh,”Iwhimperandrunmyfingernailsgentlyoverhischest,throughthe
hairthere,andhegroansloudlyandtwistsabruptlysoIamoncemore
beneathhim.
“Enough.”Hemoans.“Nomore,please.”Andit’saheartfeltplea.
Reachingup,Iclasphisfaceinmyhands,feelingthedampnessonhis
cheeks,andpullhimdowntomylipssothatIcankisshim.Icurlmyhands
aroundhisback.
Hegroansdeepandlowinhisthroatashemovesinsideme,pushingme
onwardandupward,butIcan’tfindmyrelease.Myheadistoocloudy,
cloudywithissues.Iamtoowrappedupinhim.
“Letgo,Ana,”heurgesme.
“No.”
“Yes,”hesnarls.Heshiftsslightlyandgyrateshiships,againandagain.
Jeez…argh!
“Comeonbaby,Ineedthis.Giveittome.”
AndIexplode,mybodyaslavetohis,andwrapmyselfaroundhim,clinging
tohimlikeavineashecriesoutmyname,andclimaxeswithme,then
collapses,hisfullweightpressingmeintothemattress.
IcradleChristianinmyarms,hisheadonmychest,aswelieintheafterglow
ofourlovemaking.IrunmyfingersthroughhishairasIlistentohis
breathingreturntonormal.
“Don’teverleaveme,”hewhispers,andIrollmyeyesinthefullknowledge
thathecan’tseeme.
“Iknowyou’rerollingyoureyesatme,”hemurmurs,andIhearthetraceof
humourinhisvoice.
“Youknowmewell,”Imurmur.
“I’dliketoknowyoubetter.”
“Backatyou,Grey.Whatwasyournightmareabout?”
“Theusual.”
“Tellme.”
Heswallowsandtensesbeforehesighs,alongdrawn-outsigh.“Imustbe
aboutthree,andthecrackwhore’spimpismadashellagain.Hesmokesand
smokes,onecigaretteafteranother,andhecan’tfindanashtray.”Hestops,
andIfreezeasacreepingchillgripsmyheart.
“Ithurt,”hesays,“It’sthepainIremember.That’swhatgivesmenightmares.
Thatandthefactthatshedidnothingtostophim.”
Ohno.Thisisunbearable.Itightenmygriparoundhim,mylegsandarms
holdinghimtome,andItrynottoletmydespairchokeme.Howcould
anyonetreatachildlikethat?
Heraiseshisheadandpinsmewithhisintensegreygaze.
“You’renotlikeher.Don’teverthinkthat.Please.”
Iblinkbackathim.It’sveryreassuringtohear.Heputshisheadonmychest
again,andIthinkhe’sfinished,buthesurprisesmebycontinuing.
“Sometimesinthedreamsshe’sjustlyingonthefloor.AndIthinkshe’s
asleep.Butshedoesn’tmove.Shenevermoves.AndI’mhungry.Really
hungry.”
Ohfuck.
“There’saloudnoiseandhe’sback,andhehitsmesohard,cursingthecrack
whore.
Hisfirstreactionwasalwaystousehisfistsorhisbelt.”
“Isthatwhyyoudon’tliketobetouched?”
Hecloseshiseyesandhugsmetighter.“That’scomplicated,”hemurmurs.
Henuzzlesmebetweenmybreasts,inhalingdeeply,tryingtodistractme.
“Tellme,”Iprompt.
Hesighs.“Shedidn’tloveme.Ididn’tloveme.TheonlytouchIknewwas
…harsh.
Itstemmedfromthere.FlynnexplainsitbetterthanIcan.”
“CanIseeFlynn?”
Heraiseshisheadtolookatme.“FiftyShadesrubbingoffonyou?”
“Andthensome.Ilikehowit’srubbingoffatthemoment.”Iwriggle
provocativelyunderneathhimandhesmiles.
“Yes,MissSteele,Ilikethat,too.”Heleansupandkissesme.Hegazesatme
foramoment.
“Youaresoprecioustome,Ana.Iwasseriousaboutmarryingyou.Wecan
gettoknoweachotherthen.Icanlookafteryou.Youcanlookafterme.We
canhavekidsifyouwant.
Iwilllaymyworldatyourfeet,Anastasia.Iwantyou,bodyandsoul,
forever.Pleasethinkaboutit.”
“Iwillthinkaboutit,Christian.Iwill,”Ireassurehim,reelingoncemore.
Kids?Jeez.
“I’dreallyliketotalktoDr.Flynn,though,ifyoudon’tmind.”
“Anythingforyou,baby.Anything.Whenwouldyouliketoseehim?”
“Soonerratherthanlater.”
“Okay.I’llmakethearrangementsinthemorning.”Heglancesattheclock.
“It’slate.
Weshouldsleep.”Heshiftstoswitchoffhisbedsidelightandpullsme
againsthim.
Iglanceatthealarmclock.Crap,it’sthreeforty-five.
Hecurlshisarmsaroundme,hisfronttomyback,andnuzzlesmyneck.“I
loveyou,AnaSteele,andIwantyoubymyside,always,”hemurmursashe
kissesmyneck.“Nowgotosleep.”
Iclosemyeyes.
Reluctantly,Iopenmyheavyeyelidsandbrightlightfillstheroom.Igroan.I
feelcloudy,disconnectedfrommyleadenlimbs,andChristianiswrapped
aroundmelikeivy.
I’mtoowarmasperusual.Surelyit’sjustfiveinthemorning.Thealarmhas
notgoneoffyet.Istretchouttofreemyselffromhisheat,turninginhisarms,
andhemumblessomethingunintelligibleinhissleep.Iglanceattheclock.
Eightforty-five.
Shit,I’mgoingtobelate.Fuck.Iscrambleoutofbedanddashtothe
bathroom.Iamshoweredandoutwithinfourminutes.
Christiansitsupinbedwatchingmewithill-concealedamusementcoupled
withwarinessasIcontinuetodrymyselfwhilegatheringmyclothes.Perhaps
he’swaitingformetoreacttoyesterday’srevelations.Rightnow,Ijustdon’t
havetime.
Icheckmyclothes—blackslacks,blackshirt—allabitMrs.R,butIdon’t
haveasecondtochangemymind.Ihastilydonblackbraandpanties,
consciousthathe’swatchingmyeverymove.It’s…unnerving.Thepanties
andbrawilldo.
“Youlookgood,”Christianpurrsfromthebed.“Youcancallinsick,you
know.”Hegivesmehisdevastating,lopsided,onehundredandfiftypercent
panty-bustingsmile.Oh,he’ssotempting.Myinnergoddesspouts
provocativelyatme.
“No,Christian,Ican’t.IamnotamegalomaniacCEOwithabeautifulsmile
whocancomeandgoashepleases.”
“IliketocomeasIplease.”Hesmirksandcrankshisglorioussmileup
anothernotchsoit’sinfullHdimax.
“Christian!”Iscold.Ithrowmytowelathimandhelaughs.
“Beautifulsmile,huh?”
“Yes.Youknowtheeffectyouhaveonme.”Iputonmywatch.
“DoI?”heblinksinnocently.
“Yes,youdo.Thesameeffectyouhaveonallwomen.Getsreallytiresome
watchingthemallswoon.”
“Doesit?”Hecockshiseyebrowatme,moreamused.
“Don’tplaytheinnocent,Mr.Grey,itreallydoesn’tsuityou,”Imutter
distractedlyasIscoopmyhairintoaponytailandpullonmyblackhigh-
heeledshoes.There,thatwilldo.
WhenIbendtokisshimgood-bye,hegrabsmeandpullsmedownontothe
bed,leaningovermeandsmilingfromeartoear.Ohmy.He’ssobeautiful—
eyesbrightwithmischief,floppyjust-fucked-againhair,thatdazzlingsmile.
Nowhe’splayful.
I’mtired,stillreelingfromallthedisclosuresofyesterday,whilehe’sbright
asabuttonandsexyasfuck.Oh,exasperatingFifty.
“WhatcanIdototemptyoutostay?”hesayssoftly,andmyheartskipsa
beatandbeginstopound.Heistemptationpersonified.
“Youcan’t,”Igrumble,strugglingtositbackup.“Letmego.”
HepoutsandIgiveup.Grinning,Itracemyfingersoverhissculpturedlips—
myFiftyShades.Ilovehimsoinallhismonumentalfuckedupness.Ihaven’t
evenbeguntoprocessyesterday’seventsandhowIfeelaboutthem.
Ileanuptokisshim,thankfulthatIhavebrushedmyteeth.Hekissesme
longandhardandthenswiftlysetsmeonmyfeet,leavingmedazed,
breathless,andslightlywobbly.
“Taylorwilltakeyou.Quickerthanfindingsomewheretopark.He’swaiting
outsidethebuilding,”Christiansayskindly,andheseemsrelieved.Ishe
worriedaboutmyreactionthismorning?Surelylastnight—er,thismorning
—provedthatIamnotgoingtorun.
“Okay.Thankyou,”Imutter,disappointedthatIamuprightonmyfeet,
confusedbyhishesitancy,andvaguelyirritatedthatonceagainIwon’tbe
drivingmySaab.Buthe’sright,ofcourse—itwillbequickerwithTaylor.
“Enjoyyourlazymorning,Mr.Grey.IwishIcouldstay,butthemanwho
ownsthecompanyIworkforwouldnotapproveofhisstaffditchingjustfor
hotsex.”Igrabmypurse.
“Personally,MissSteele,Ihavenodoubtthathewouldapprove.Infacthe
mightinsistonit.”
“Whyareyoustayinginbed?It’snotlikeyou.”
Hefoldshishandsbehindhisheadandgrinsatme.
“BecauseIcan,MissSteele.”
Ishakemyheadathim.“Laters,baby.”Iblowhimakiss,andIamoutofthe
door.
Tayloriswaitingforme,andheseemstounderstandthatIamlatebecausehe
driveslikeabatoutofhelltogetmetoworkbyninefifteen.Iamgrateful
whenhepullsupatthecurb—gratefultobealive–hisdrivingwasscary.And
gratefulthatIamnothideouslylate—onlyfifteenminutes.
“Thankyou,Taylor,”Imutter,ashen-faced.IrememberChristiantellingme
hedrovetanks;maybehedrivesforNascar,too.
“Ana.”Henodsafarewell,andIdashintomyoffice,realizingasIopenthe
doortoreceptionthatTaylorseemstohaveovercometheMissSteele
formality.Itmakesmesmile.
ClairegrinsatmeasIrushthroughreceptionandmakemywaytomydesk.
“Ana!”Jackcallsme.“Getinhere.”
Ohshit.
“Whattimedoyoucallthis?”hesnaps.
“I’msorry.Ioverslept.”Iflushcrimson.
“Don’tletithappenagain.Fixmesomecoffee,andthenIneedyoutodo
someletters.
Jumptoit,”heshouts,makingmeflinch.
Why’shesomad?What’shisproblem?WhathaveIdone?Ihurrytothe
kitchentofixhiscoffee.MaybeIshouldhaveditched.Icouldbe…well,
doingsomethinghotwithChristian,orhavingbreakfastwithhim,orjust
talking—thatwouldbenovel.
JackbarelyacknowledgesmypresencewhenIventurebackintohisofficeto
deliverhiscoffee.Hethrustsasheetofpaperatme—it’shandwrittenina
barelylegiblescrawl.
“Typethisup,havemesign,thencopyandmailittoallourauthors.”
“Yes,Jack.”
Hedoesn’tlookupasIleave.Boy,ishemad.
ItiswithsomereliefthatIfinallysitdownatmydesk.ItakeasipofteaasI
waitformycomputertobootup.Icheckmye-mails.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Missingyou
Date:June15,201109:05
To:AnastasiaSteele
PleaseuseyourBlackberry.
x
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:AllRightforSome
Date:June15,201109:27
To:ChristianGrey
Mybossismad.
Iblameyouforkeepingmeuplatewithyour…shenanigans.
Youshouldbeashamedofyourself.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Shenaniwhatagans?
Date:June15,201109:32
To:AnastasiaSteele
Youdon’thavetowork,Anastasia.
YouhavenoideahowappalledIamatmyshenanigans.
ButIlikekeepingyouuplate;)
PleaseuseyourBlackberry.
Oh,andmarryme,please.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Livingtomake
Date:June15,201109:35
To:ChristianGrey
Iknowyournaturalinclinationistowardnagging,butjuststop.
Ineedtotalktoyourshrink.
OnlythenwillIgiveyoumyanswer.
Iamnotopposedtolivinginsin.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:BLACKBERRY
Date:June15,201109:40
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,ifyouaregoingtostartdiscussingDr.FlynnthenUSEYOUR
BLACKBERRY.
Thisisnotarequest.
ChristianGrey,
NowPissedCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Ohshit.Nowhe’smadatme,too.Well,hecanstewforallIcare.Itakemy
Blackberryoutofmypurseandeyeitwithscepticism.AsIdo,itstarts
ringing.Can’theleavemealone?
“Yes,”Isnap.
“Ana,hi—”
“José!Howareyou?”Oh,it’sgoodtohearhisvoice.
“I’mfine,Ana.Look,areyoustillseeingthatGreyguy?”
“Er—yes…Why?”Whereishegoingwiththis?
“Well,he’sboughtallyourphotos,andIthoughtIcoulddeliverthemupto
Seattle.
TheexhibitionclosesThursday,soIcouldbringthemupFridayeveningand
dropthemoff,youknow.Andmaybewecouldcatchadrinkorsomething.
Actually,Iwashopingforaplacetocrash,too.”
“José,that’scool.Yeah,I’msurewecouldworksomethingout.Letmetalk
toChristianandcallyouback,okay?”
“Cool,I’llwaittohearfromyou.Bye,Ana.”
“Bye.”Andhe’sgone.
Holycow.Ihaven’tseenorheardfromJosésincehisshow.Ididn’tevenask
himhowitwentorifhesoldanymorepictures.SomefriendIam.
So,IcouldspendtheeveningwithJoséonFriday.HowwillChristianlike
that?IbecomeawarethatIambitingmyliptillithurts.Oh,thatmanhas
doublestandards.Hecan—Ishudderatthethought—bathehisbatshitex-
lover,butIwillprobablygetatruck-loadofgriefforwantingtohaveadrink
withJosé.HowamIgoingtohandlethis?
“Ana!”Jackpullsmeabruptlyoutofmyreverie.Ishestillmad?“Where’s
thatletter?”
“Er—coming.”Shit.Whatiseatinghim?
Itypeuphisletterindouble-quicktime,printitout,andnervouslymakemy
wayintohisoffice.
“Hereyougo.”Iplaceitonhisdeskandturntoleave.Jackquicklycastshis
critical,piercing,eyesoverit.
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’redoingoutthere,butIpayyoutowork,”hebarks.
“I’mawareofthat,Jack,”Imutterapologetically.Ifeelaslowflushcreepup
myskin.
“Thisisfullofmistakes,”hesnaps.“Doitagain.”
Fuck.He’sbeginningtosoundlikesomeoneIknow,butrudenessfrom
ChristianIcantolerate.Jackisbeginningtopissmeoff.
“Andgetmeanothercoffeewhileyou’reatit.”
“Sorry,”IwhisperandscurryoutofhisofficeasquicklyasIcan.
Holyfuck.He’sbeingunbearable.Isitbackdownatmydesk,hastilyredohis
letter,whichhadtwomistakesinit,andcheckitthoroughlybeforeprinting.
Nowit’sperfect.Ifetchhimanothercoffee,lettingClaireknowwitharollof
myeyesthatIamindeepdoo-doo.Takingadeepbreath,Iapproachhis
officeagain.
“Better,”hemumblesreluctantlyashesignstheletter.“Photocopyit,filethe
original,andmailouttoallauthors.Understand?”
“Yes.”Iamnotanidiot.“Jack,istheresomethingwrong?”
Heglancesup,hisblueeyesdarkeningashisgazerunsupanddownmy
body.Mybloodchills.
“No.”Hisanswerisconcise,rude,anddismissive.IstandthereliketheidiotI
professednottobeandthenshufflebackoutofhisoffice.Perhapshetoo
suffersfromapersonalitydisorder.Sheesh,I’msurroundedbythem.Imake
mywaytothephotocopier—whichofcourseissufferingfromapaperjam—
andwhenI’vefixedit,Ifindit’soutofpaper.Thisisnotmyday.
WhenIamfinallybackatmydesk,stuffingenvelopes,myBlackberry
buzzes.IcanseethroughtheglasswallthatJackisonthephone.Ianswer—
it’sEthan.
“Hi,Ana.How’ditgolastnight?”
Lastnight.Aquickmontageofimagesflashesthroughmymind—Christian
kneeling,hisrevelation,hisproposal,macaroniandcheese,myweeping,his
nightmare,thesex,touchinghim…
“Eh…fine,”Imutterunconvincingly.
Ethanpausesanddecidestocolludeinmydenial.“Cool.CanIcollectthe
keys?”
“Sure.”
“I’llbeoverinabouthalfanhour.Willyouhavetimetograbacoffee?”
“Nottoday.Iwaslategettingin,andmybossislikeanangrybearwithasore
headandpoisonivyuphisass.”
“Soundsnasty.”
“Nastyandugly.”Igiggle.
Ethanlaughsandmymoodliftsalittle.“Okay.Seeyouinthirty.”Hehangs
up.
IglanceupatJackandhe’sstaringatme.Ohshit.Istudiouslyignorehimand
continuetostuffenvelopes.
Halfanhourlatermyphonebuzzes.It’sClaire.“He’shereagain,in
reception.Theblondgod.”
Ethanisajoytoseeafteralltheangstofyesterdayandthebadtempermy
bossisinflictingonmetoday,butalltoosoon,he’ssayinghisgood-byes.
“WillIseeyouthisevening?”
“I’llprobablystaywithChristian.”Iflush.
“Youhavegotitbad,”Ethanobservesgood-naturedly.
Ishrug.That’snotthehalfofit,andinthatmomentIrealize,Ihaveitmore
thanbad.
Ihaveitforlife.Andamazingly,Christianseemstofeelthesame.Ethan
givesmeaswifthug.“Laters,Ana.”
Ireturntomydesk,wrestlingwithmyrealization.Oh,whatIwoulddofora
dayonmyown,tojustthinkallthisthrough.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Jackissuddenlyloomingoverme.
“Ihadsomebusinesstoattendtoinreception.”Heisreallygettingonmy
nerves.
“Iwantmylunch.Theusual,”hesaysabruptlyandstompsbackintohis
office.
Whydidn’tIstayhomewithChristian?Myinnergoddesscrossesherarms
andpursesherlips;shewantstoknowtheanswertothatone,too.Pickingup
mypurseandmyBlackberry,Iheadforthedoor.Icheckmymessages.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Missingyou
Date:June15,201109:06
To:AnastasiaSteele
Mybedistoobigwithoutyou.
LookslikeI’llhavetogotoworkafterall.
EvenmegalomaniacCEOsneedsomethingtodo.
x
ChristianGrey
TwiddlingHisThumbsCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Andthere’sanotherfromhim,fromearlierthismorning.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Discretion
Date:June15,201109:50
To:AnastasiaSteele
Isthebetterpartofvalour.
Pleaseusediscretion…yourworke-mailsaremonitored.
HOWMANYTIMESDOIHAVETOTELLYOUTHIS?
Yes.Shoutycapitalsasyousay.USEYOURBLACKBERRY.
Dr.Flynncanseeustomorrowevening.
x
ChristianGrey
StillPissedCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Andanevenlaterone…Ohno.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Crickets
Date:June15,201112:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ihaven’theardfromyou.
Pleasetellmeyouareokay.
YouknowhowIworry.
IwillsendTaylortocheck!
x
ChristianGrey,
Over-AnxiousCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Irollmyeyes,andcallhim.Idon’twanthimtoworry.
“ChristianGrey’sphone,AndreaParkerspeaking.”
Oh.Iamsodisconcertedthatit’snotChristianwhoanswersthatithaltsmein
thestreet,andtheyoungmanbehindmemuttersangrilyasheswervesto
avoidbumpingintome.Istandunderthegreenawningofthedeli.
“Hello?CanIhelpyou?”Andreafillsthevoidofawkwardsilence.
“Sorry…Er…IwashopingtospeaktoChristian—”
“Mr.Greyisinameetingatthemoment.”Shebristleswithefficiency.“CanI
takeamessage?”
“CanyoutellhimAnacalled?”
“Ana?AsinAnastasiaSteele?”
“Er…Yes.”Herquestionconfusesme.
“Holdonesecondplease,MissSteele.”
Ilistenattentivelyassheputsthephonedown,butIcan’ttellwhat’sgoing
on.AfewsecondslaterChristianisontheline.“Areyouokay?”
“Yes,I’mfine.”
Ihearthequickreleaseofhisheldbreath.He’srelieved.
“Christian,whywouldn’tIbeokay?”Iwhisperreassuringly.
“You’renormallysoquickatrespondingtomye-mails.AfterwhatItoldyou
yesterday,Iwasworried,”hesaysquietly,andthenhe’stalkingtosomeonein
hisoffice.
“No,Andrea.Tellthemtowait,”hesayssternly.Oh,Iknowthattoneof
voice.
Ican’thearAndrea’sresponse.
“No.Isaidwait,”hesnaps.
“Christian,you’reobviouslybusy.IonlycalledtoletyouknowthatI’mokay,
andImeanthat—justverybusytoday.Jackhasbeencrackingthewhip.Er…
Imean…”Iflushandfallsilent.
Christiansaysnothingforamoment.
“Crackingthewhip,eh?Well,therewasatimewhenIwouldhavecalledhim
aluckyman.”Hisvoiceisfullofdryhumour.“Don’tlethimgetontopof
you,baby.”
“Christian!”IscoldhimandIknowhe’sgrinning.
“Justwatchhim,that’sall.Look,I’mgladyou’reokay.WhattimeshallI
collectyou?”
“I’lle-mailyou.”
“FromyourBlackberry,”hesayssternly.
“Yes,Sir,”Isnapback.
“Laters,baby.”
“Bye…”
He’sstillhangingon.
“Hangup,”Iscold,smiling.
Hesighsheavilydownthephone.“Iwishyou’dnevergonetoworkthis
morning.”
“Me,too.ButIambusy.Hangup.”
“Youhangup.”Ihearhissmile.Oh,playfulChristian.Iloveplayful
Christian.
Hmm…IloveChristian,period.
“We’vebeenherebefore.”
“You’rebitingyourlip.”
Shit,he’sright.Howdoesheknow?
“Yousee,youthinkIdon’tknowyou,Anastasia.ButIknowyoubetterthan
youthink,”hemurmursseductivelyinthatwaythatmakesmeweak,andwet.
“Christian,I’lltalktoyoulater.Rightnow,IreallywishIhadn’tleftthis
morning,too.”
“I’llwaitforyoure-mail,MissSteele.”
“Goodday,Mr.Grey.”
Hangingup,Ileanagainstthecold,hardglassofthedelistorewindow.Oh
my,evenonthephoneheownsme.Shakingmyheadtoclearitofall
thoughtsGrey,Iheadintothedeli,depressedbyallthoughtsJack.
HeisscowlingwhenIgetback.
“IsitokayifItakemylunchnow?”Iasktentatively.Hegazesupatmeand
hisscowldeepens.
“Ifyoumust,”hesnaps.“Forty-fiveminutes.Makeupthetimeyoulostthis
morning.”
“Jack,canIaskyousomething?”
“What?”
“Youseem,kindofoutofsortstoday.HaveIdonesomethingtooffendyou?”
Heblinksatmemomentarily.“Idon’tthinkI’minthemoodtolistyour
misdemeanoursrightnow.I’mbusy.”Hecontinuestostareathiscomputer
screen,effectivelydismissingme.Whoa…WhathaveIdone?
Iturnandleavehisoffice,andforamomentIthinkI’mgoingtocry.Why
hashetakensuchasuddenandintensedisliketome?Averyunwelcomeidea
popsintomyhead,butIignoreit.Idon’tneedhisshitrightnow—Ihave
enoughofmyown.
IheadoutofthebuildingtothenearbyStarbucks,orderalatte,andsitdown
inthewindow.TakingmyiPodfrommypurse,Iplugmyheadphonesin.I
chooseasonghaphazardlyandpressrepeatsoitwillplayoverandover
again.Ineedmusictothinkby.
Myminddrifts.Christianthesadist.Christianthesubmissive.Christianthe
untouchable.Christian’soedipalimpulses.ChristianbathingLeila.Igroan
andclosemyeyeswhilethatlastimagehauntsme.
CanIreallymarrythisman?He’ssomuchtotakein.He’scomplexand
difficult,butdeepdownIknowIdon’twanttoleavehimdespiteallhis
issues.Icouldneverleavehim.
Ilovehim.Itwouldbelikecuttingoffmyrightarm.
Rightnow,Ihaveneverfeltsoalive,sovital.I’veencounteredallmannerof
perplexing,profoundfeelingsandnewexperiencessinceImethim.It’snever
adullmomentwithFifty.
LookingbackonmylifebeforeChristian,it’sasifeverythingwasinblack
andwhitelikeJosé’spictures.Nowmywholeworldisinrich,bright,
saturatedcolour.Iamsoaringinabeamofdazzlinglight,Christian’sdazzling
light.IamstillIcarus,flyingtooclosetohissun.Isnorttomyself.Flying
withChristian—whocanresistamanwhocanfly?
CanIgivehimup?DoIwanttogivehimup?It’sasifhe’sflippedaswitch
andlitmeupfromwithin.It’sbeenaneducationknowinghim.Ihave
discoveredmoreaboutmyselfinthelastfewweeksthaneverbefore.I’ve
learnedaboutmybody,myhardlimits,mysoftlimits,mytolerance,my
patience,mycompassion,andmycapacityforlove.
Anditstrikesmelikeathunderbolt—that’swhatheneedsfromme,whathe’s
entitledto—unconditionallove.Heneverreceiveditfromthecrackwhore—
it’swhatheneeds.
CanIlovehimunconditionally?CanIaccepthimforwhoheisregardlessof
hisrevelationslastnight?
Iknowhe’sdamaged,butIdon’tthinkhe’sirredeemable.Isigh,recalling
Taylor’swords.“He’sagoodman,MissSteele.”
I’veseentheweightyevidenceofhisgoodness—hischaritywork,his
businessethics,hisgenerosity—andyethedoesn’tseeitinhimself.He
doesn’tfeeldeservingofanylove.
Givenhishistoryandhispredilections,Ihaveaninklingofhisself-loathing
—that’swhyhe’sneverletanyonein.CanIgetpastthis?
HesaidoncethatIcouldn’tbegintounderstandthedepthsofhisdepravity.
Well,he’stoldmenow,andgiventhefirstfewyearsofhislife,itdoesn’t
surpriseme.Thoughitwasstillashocktohearitoutloud.Atleasthe’stold
me—andheseemshappiernowthathehas.Iknoweverything.
Doesitdevaluehisloveforme?No,Idon’tthinkso.He’sneverfeltthisway
beforeandneitherhaveI.Intruthwe’vebothcomesofar.
TearsprickandpoolinmyeyesasIrecallhisfinalbarrierscrumblinglast
nightwhenheletmetouchhim.Jeez,ittookLeilaandallhercrazytogetus
tothere.
PerhapsIshouldbegrateful.Thefactthathebathedherisnotquitesucha
bittertasteonmytonguenow.Iwonderwhichclotheshegaveher.Ihopeit
wasn’ttheplumdress.Ilikedthat.
SocanIlovethismanwithallhisissuesunconditionally?Becausehe
deservesnothingless.Hestillneedstolearnboundariesandlittlethingslike
empathy,andtobelesscontrolling.Hesayshenolongerfeelsthecompulsion
tohurtme;perhapsDr.Flynnwillbeabletocastsomelightonthat.
Fundamentally,that’swhatconcernsmemost—thatheneedsthatandhas
alwaysfoundlike-mindedwomenwhoneedit,too.Ifrown.Yes,thisisthe
reassuranceIneed.Iwanttobeallthingstothisman,hisAlphaandhis
Omegaandallthingsinbetweenbecauseheistome.
IhopeFlynnwillhavetheanswers,andmaybethenIcansayyes.Christian
andIcanfindourownsliceofheavenclosetothesun.
Igazeoutatbustling,lunchtimeSeattle.Mrs.ChristianGrey—whowould
havethought?Iglanceatmywatch.Shit!Ileapupfrommyseatanddashto
thedoor—awholehourofjustsitting—wheredidthetimego?Jackisgoing
togoballistic!
Islinkbacktomydesk.Fortunately,he’snotinhisoffice.ItlookslikeI’ve
gotawaywithit.Igazeintentlyatmycomputerscreen,unseeing,tryingto
reassemblemythoughtsintoworkmode.
“Wherewereyou?”
Ijump.Jackisstanding,armsfolded,behindme.
“Iwasinthebasement,photocopying,”Ilie.Jacklipspressintoathin,
uncompromisingline.
“I’mleavingformyplaneatsixthirty.Ineedyoutostayuntilthen.”
“Okay.”IsmileassweetlyasIcanmanage.
“I’dlikemyitineraryforNewYorkprintedoutandphotocopiedtentimes.
Andgetthebrochurespackagedup.Andgetmesomecoffee!”hesnarlsand
stalksintohisoffice.
Ibreatheasighofreliefandstickmytongueoutathimasheclosesthedoor.
Bastard.
Atfouro’clock,Claireringsfromreception.
“IhaveMiaGreyforyou.”
Mia?Ihopeshedoesn’twanttohangatthemall.
“Hi,Mia!”
“Ana,hi.Howareyou?”Herexcitementisstifling.
“Good.Busytoday.You?”
“Iamsobored!Ineedtofindsomethingtodo,soI’marrangingabirthday
partyforChristian.”
Christian’sbirthday?Jeez,Ihadnoidea.“Whenisit?”
“Iknewit.Iknewhewouldn’ttellyou.It’sonSaturday.MomandDadwant
everyoneoverforamealtocelebrate.I’mofficiallyinvitingyou.”
“Oh,that’slovely.Thankyou,Mia.”
“I’vealreadycalledChristianandtoldhim,andhegavemeyournumber
here.”
“Cool.”Mymindisinaflatspin—whatthehellamIgoingtogetChristian
forhisbirthday?Whatdoyoubuythemanwhohaseverything?
“Andmaybenextweek,wecangooutonelunchtime?”
“Sure.Howabouttomorrow?MybossisawayinNewYork.”
“Oh,thatwouldbecool,Ana.Whattime?”
“Say,twelveforty-five?”
“I’llbethere.Bye,Ana.”
“Bye.”Ihangup.
Christian.Birthday.WhatonearthshouldIgethim?
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Antediluvian
Date:June15,201116:11
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
When,exactly,wereyougoingtotellme?
WhatshallIgetmyoldmanforhisbirthday?
Perhapssomenewbatteriesforhishearingaid?
Ax
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Prehistoric
Date:June15,201116:20
To:AnastasiaSteele
Don’tmocktheelderly.
Gladyouarealiveandkicking.
AndthatMiahasbeenintouch.
Batteriesarealwaysuseful.
Idon’tlikecelebratingmybirthday.
x
ChristianGrey,
DeafasaPostCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Hmmm.
Date:June15,201116:24
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
Icanimagineyoupoutingasyouwrotethatlastsentence.
Thatdoesthingstome.
Axox
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,CommissioningEditor,SIP
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:RollingEyes
Date:June15,201116:29
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele
WILLYOUUSEYOURBLACKBERRY!!!
x
ChristianGrey
TwitchyPalmed,CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Irollmyeyes.Whyishesotouchyaboute-mails?
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Inspiration
Date:June15,201116:33
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
Ah…yourtwitchypalmscan’tstaystillforlong,canthey?
IwonderwhatDr.Flynnwouldsayaboutthat?
ButnowIknowwhattogiveyouforyourbirthday—andIhopeitmakesme
sore…
;)
Ax
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Angina
Date:June15,201116:38
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele
Idon’tthinkmyheartcouldstandthestrainofanothere-maillikethat,ormy
pantsforthatmatter.
Behave.
x
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Trying
Date:June15,201116:42
To:ChristianGrey
Christian
Iamtryingtoworkformyverytryingboss.
Pleasestopbotheringmeandbeingtryingyourself.
Yourlaste-mailnearlymademecombust.
xPS:Canyoucollectmeat6:30?
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:I’llBeThere
Date:June15,201116:38
To:AnastasiaSteele
Nothingwouldgivemegreaterpleasure.
Actually,Icanthinkofanyofnumberofthingsthatwouldgivemegreater
pleasure,andtheyallinvolveyou.
x
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Iflushreadinghisresponseandshakemyhead.E-mailbanterisallwelland
good,butwereallyneedtotalk.Perhapsoncewe’veseenFlynn.Iputmy
Blackberrydownandfinishmypettycashreconciliation.
Bysixfifteen,theofficeisdeserted.IhaveeverythingreadyforJack.Hiscab
totheairportisbooked,andIjusthavetohandhimhisdocuments.Iglance
anxiouslythroughtheglass,buthe’sstilldeepinhistelephonecall,andI
don’twanttointerrupthim—notinthemoodhe’sintoday.
AsIwaitforhimtofinish,itoccurstomethatIhavenoteatentoday.Ohshit,
that’snotgoingtogodownwellwithFifty.Iquicklyskipdowntothekitchen
toseeifthereareanycookiesleft.
AsI’mopeningthecommunalcookiejar,Jackappearsunexpectedlyinthe
kitchendoorway,startlingme.
Oh.What’shedoinghere?
Hestaresatme.“Well,Ana,Ithinkthismightbeagoodtimetodiscussyour
misdemeanours.”Hestepsin,closingthedoorbehindhim,andmymouth
instantlydriesasalarmbellsringloudandpiercinginmyhead.
Ohfuck.
Hislipstwitchintoagrotesquesmile,andhiseyesgleamadeep,darkcobalt.
“Atlast,Ihaveyouonyourown,”hesays,andheslowlylickshislowerlip.
What?
“Now…areyougoingtobeagoodgirlandlistenverycarefullytowhatI
say?”
Jack’seyesflashthedarkestblue,andhesneersashecastsaleeringlook
downmybody.
Fearchokesme.Whatisthis?Whatdoeshewant?Fromsomewheredeep
insideanddespitemydrymouth,Ifindtheresolveandcouragetosqueeze
outsomewords,myself-defenceclasskeep-them-talkingmantracirclingmy
brainlikeanetherealsentinel.
“Jack,nowmightnotbeagoodtimeforthis.Yourcabisdueintenminutes,
andIneedtogiveyouallyourdocuments.”Myvoiceisquietbuthoarse,
betrayingme.
Hesmiles,andit’sadespoticfuck-yousmilethatfinallytoucheshiseyes.
Theyglintintheharshfluorescentglowofthestriplightaboveusinthedrab
windowlessroom.Hetakesasteptowardme,glaringatme,hiseyesnever
leavingmine.HispupilsaredilatingasIwatch—theblackeclipsingtheblue.
Ohno.Myfearescalates.
“YouknowIhadtofightwithElizabethtogiveyouthisjob…”Hisvoice
trailsoffashetakesanothersteptowardme,andIstepbackagainstthedingy
wallcupboards.Keep-him-talking,keep-him-talking,keep-him-talking.
“Jack,whatexactlyisyourproblem?Ifyouwanttoairyourgrievances,then
perhapsweshouldaskHRtogetinvolved.WecoulddothiswithElizabethin
amoreformalsetting.”Whereissecurity?Aretheyinthebuildingyet?
“Wedon’tneedHRtoovermanagethissituationAna,”hesneers.“WhenI
hiredyou,Ithoughtyouwouldbeahardworker.Ithoughtyouhadpotential.
Butnow,Idon’tknow.
You’vebecomedistractedandsloppy.AndIwondered…isityourboyfriend
who’sleadingyouastray?”Hesaysboyfriendwithchillingcontempt.
“Idecidedtocheckthroughyoure-mailaccounttoseeifIcouldfindany
clues.AndyouknowwhatIfound,Ana?Whatwasoutofplace?Theonly
personale-mailsinyouraccountweretoyourhot-shotboyfriend.”Hepauses,
assessingmyreaction.“AndIgottothinking…wherearethee-mailsfrom
him?Therearenone.Nada.Nothing.Sowhat’sgoingon,Ana?Howcome
hise-mailstoyouaren’tonoursystem?Areyousomecompanyspy,planted
inherebyGrey’sorganization?Isthatwhatthisis?”
Holyshit,thee-mails.Ohno.WhathaveIsaid?
“Jack,whatareyoutalkingabout?”Itryforbewildered,andI’mpretty
convincing.
ThisconversationisnotgoingasIexpected,butIdon’ttrusthiminthe
slightest.SomesubliminalpheromonethatJackisexudinghasmeonhigh
alert.Thismanisangry,volatile,andtotallyunpredictable.Itrytoreason
withhim.
“YoujustsaidthatyouhadtopersuadeElizabethtohireme.SohowcouldI
beplantedasaspy?Makeupyourmind,Jack.”
“ButGreyfuckedtheNewYorktrip,didn’the?”
Ohshit.
“Howdidhemanagethat,Ana?Whatdidyourrich,IvyLeagueboyfriend
do?”
Whatlittlebloodremainsinmyfacedrainsaway,andIthinkI’mgoingto
faint.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,Jack,”Iwhisper.“Yourcab
willbehereshortly.
ShallIfetchyourthings?”Ohplease,letmego.Stopthis.
Jackcontinues,enjoyingmydiscomfort.“AndhethinksI’dmakeapassat
you?”Hesmirksandhiseyesheat.“Well,Iwantyoutothinkabout
somethingwhileI’minNewYork.Igaveyouthisjob,andIexpectyouto
showmesomegratitude.Infact,I’mentitledtoit.Ihadtofighttogetyou.
Elizabethwantedsomeonebetterqualified,butI—Isawsomethinginyou.
So,weneedtoworkoutadeal.Adealwhereyoukeepmehappy.D’you
understandwhatI’msaying,Ana?”
Fuck!
“Lookatitasrefiningyourjobdescription,ifyoulike.Andifyoukeepme
happy,Iwon’tdiganyfurtherintohowyourboyfriendispullingstrings,
milkinghiscontacts,orcashinginsomefavourfromoneofhisIvyLeague
frat-boysycophants.”
Mymouthdropsopen.He’sblackmailingme.Forsex!AndwhatcanIsay?
NewsofChristian’stakeoverisembargoedforanotherthreeweeks.Ican
barelybelievethis.Sex—
withme!
Jackmovescloseruntilhe’sstandingrightinfrontofme,staringdowninto
myeyes.
Hiscloyingsweetcologneinvadesmynostrils—it’snauseating—andifI’m
notmistaken,thebitterstenchofalcoholisonhisbreath.Fuck,he’sbeen
drinking…when?
“Youaresuchatight-assed,cock-blocking,pricktease,youknow,Ana,”he
whispersthroughclenchedteeth.
What?Pricktease…Me?
“Jack,Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,”Iwhisper,asIfeelthe
adrenalinesurgethroughmybody.He’sclosernow.Iamwaitingtomakemy
move.Raywillbeproud.Raytaughtmewhattodo.Rayknowshisself-
defence.IfJacktouchesme—ifheevenbreathestooclosetome—Iwilltake
himdown.Mybreathisshallow.Imustnotfaint,Imustnotfaint.
“Lookatyou.”Hegivesmealeeringlook.“You’resoturnedon,Icantell.
You’vereallyledmeon.Deepdownyouwantit.Iknow.”
Holyfuck.Themaniscompletelydelusional.Myfearrisestodefconone,
threateningtooverwhelmme.“No,Jack.Ihaveneverledyouon.”
“Youhave,youprick-teasingbitch.Icanreadthesigns.”Reachingup,he
gentlystrokesmyfacewiththebackofhisknuckles,downtomychin.His
indexfingerstrokesmythroat,andmyheartleapsintomymouthasIfight
mygagreflex.Hereachesthedipatthebaseofmyneck,wherethetop
buttonofmyblackshirtisopen,andpresseshishandagainstmychest.
“Youwantme.Admitit,Ana.”
KeepingmyeyesfirmlyfixedonhisandconcentratingonwhatIhavetodo
—ratherthanmymushroomingrevulsionanddread—Iplacemyhandgently
overhisinacaress.
Hesmilesintriumph.Igrabhislittlefinger,andtwistitback,pullingit
sharplydownbackwardtohiship.
“Arrgh!”hecriesoutinpainandsurprise,andasheleansoffbalance,Ibring
myknee,swiftandhard,upintohisgroin,andmakeperfectcontactwithmy
goal.Idodgedeftlytomyleftashiskneesbuckle,andhecollapseswitha
groanontothekitchenfloor,graspinghimselfbetweenhislegs.
“Don’tyouevertouchmeagain,”Isnarlathim.“Youritineraryandthe
brochuresarepackagedonmydesk.Iamgoinghomenow.Haveanicetrip.
Andinthefuture,getyourowndamncoffee.”
“Youfuckingbitch!”hehalfscreams,halfgroansatme,butIamalreadyout
thedoor.
Irunfullpelttomydesk,grabmyjacketandmypurse,anddashtofront
reception,ignoringthemoansandcursesemanatingfromthebastardstill
prostrateonthekitchenfloor.
Iburstoutofthebuildingandstopforamomentasthecoolairhitsmyface,
takeadeepbreath,andcomposemyself.ButIhaven’teatenallday,andas
theveryunwelcomesurgeofadrenalinerecedes,mylegsgiveoutbeneathme
andIsinktotheground.
Iwatchwithmilddetachmenttheslowmotionmoviethatplaysoutinfrontof
me:ChristianandTaylorindarksuitsandwhiteshirts,leapingoutofthe
waitingcarandrunningtowardme.Christiansinkstohiskneesatmyside,
andonsomeunconsciouslevel,allIcanthinkis:He’shere.Myloveishere.
“Ana,Ana!What’swrong?”Hescoopsmeintohislap,runninghishandsup
anddownmyarms,checkingforanysignsofinjury.Grabbingmyhead
betweenhishands,hestareswithwide,terrified,greyeyesintomine.Isag
againsthim,suddenlyoverwhelmedwithreliefandfatigue.Oh,Christian’s
arms.ThereisnoplaceI’dratherbe.
“Ana.”Heshakesmegently.“What’swrong?Areyousick?”
IshakemyheadasIrealizeIneedtostartcommunicating.
“Jack,”Iwhisper,andIsenseratherthanseeChristian’sswiftglanceat
Taylor,whoabruptlydisappearsintothebuilding.
“Fuck!”Christianenfoldsmeinhisarms.“Whatdidthatsleazeballdoto
you?”
Andfromsomewherejusttherightsideofcrazy,agigglebubblesinmy
throat.IrecallJack’suttershockasIgrabbedhisfinger.
“It’swhatIdidtohim.”IstartgigglingandIcan’tstop.
“Ana!”Christianshakesmeagain,andmygigglingfitceases.“Didhetouch
you?”
“Onlyonce.”
IfeelChristian’smusclesbunchandtenseasragesweepsthroughhim,andhe
standsupswiftly,powerfully—rocksteady—withmeinhisarms.He’s
furious.No!
“Whereisthatfucker?”
Frominsidethebuildingwehearmuffledshouting.Christiansetsmeonmy
feet.
“Canyoustand?”
Inod.
“Don’tgoin.Don’t,Christian.”Suddenlymyfearisback,fearofwhat
ChristianwilldotoJack.
“Getinthecar,”hebarksatme.
“Christian,no.”Igrabhisarm.
“Getinthegoddamnedcar,Ana.”Heshakesmeoff.
“No!Please!”Ipleadwithhim.“Stay.Don’tleavemeonmyown.”Ideploy
myultimateweapon.
Seething,Christianrunshishandthroughhishairandglaresdownatme,
clearlywrackedwithindecision.Theshoutinginsidethebuildingescalates,
andthenstopssuddenly.
Oh,no.WhathasTaylordone?
ChristianfishesouthisBlackberry.
“Christian,hehasmye-mails.”
“What?”
“Mye-mailstoyou.Hewantedtoknowwhereyoure-mailstomewere.He
wastryingtoblackmailme.”
Christian’slookismurderous.Ohshit.“Fuck!”hespluttersandnarrowshis
eyesatme.HepunchesanumberintohisBlackberry.
Ohno.I’mintrouble.Who’shecalling?
“Barney.Grey.IneedyoutoaccesstheSIPmainserverandwipeall
AnastasiaSteele’se-mailstome.ThenaccessthepersonaldatafilesofJack
Hydeandchecktheyaren’tstoredthere.Iftheyare,wipethem…Yes,allof
them.Now.Letmeknowwhenit’sdone.”
Hestabstheoffbuttonthendialsanothernumber.
“Roach.Grey.Hyde—Iwanthimout.Now.Thisminute.Callsecurity.Get
himtoclearhisdeskimmediately,orIwillliquidatethiscompanyfirstthing
inthemorning.Youalreadyhaveallthejustificationyouneedtogivehimhis
pinkslip.Doyouunderstand?”
Helistensforamomentandhangsupseeminglysatisfied.
“Blackberry,”hehissesatmethroughclenchedteeth.
“Pleasedon’tbemadatme.”Iblinkupathim.
“Iamsomadatyourightnow,”hesnarlsandoncemoresweepshishand
throughhishair.“Getinthecar.”
“Christian,please—”
“Getinthefuckingcar,Anastasia,orsohelpmeI’llputyouintheremyself,”
hethreatens,hiseyesblazingwithfury.
Ohshit.“Don’tdoanythingstupid,please,”Ibeg.
“STUPID!”heexplodes.“ItoldyoutouseyourfuckingBlackberry.Don’t
talktomeaboutstupid.Getinthemotherfuckingcar,Anastasia—NOW!”he
snarlsandafrissonoffearrunsthroughme.ThisisVeryAngryChristian.
I’venotseenhimthismadbefore.He’sbarelyholdingontohisself-control.
“Okay,”Imutter,placatinghim.“Butplease,becareful.”
Pressinghislipstogetherinahardline,hepointsangrilytothecar,glaringat
me.
Jeez,okay,Igetthemessage.
“Pleasebecareful.Idon’twantanythingtohappentoyou.Itwouldkillme,”
Imurmur.
Heblinksrapidlyandstills,loweringhisarmwhilehetakesadeepbreath.
“I’llbecareful,”hesays,hiseyessoftening.Oh,thanktheLord.Hiseyes
burnintomeasIheadtothecar,openthefrontpassengerdoor,andclimbin.
OnceI’msafelyinthecomfortoftheAudi,hedisappearsintothebuilding,
andmyheartleapsagainintomythroat.What’sheplanningtodo?
Isitandwait.Andwait.Andwait.Fiveeternalminutes.Jack’scabpullsupin
frontoftheAudi.Tenminutes.Fifteen.Jeez,whataretheydoinginthere,and
howisTaylor?Thewaitisagonizing.
Twenty-fiveminuteslater,Jackemergesfromthebuilding,clutchinga
cardboardstoragebox.Behindhimisthesecurityguard.Wherewashe
earlier?Andafterthem,ChristianandTaylor.Jacklookssick.Heheads
straightforthecab,andI’mgratefulfortheAudi’sheavilytintedwindowsso
hecannotseeme.Thecabdrivesoff—presumablynottoSea-Tac—as
ChristianandTaylorreachthecar.
Openingthedriver’sdoor,Christianslidessmoothlyintotheseat,presumably
becauseIaminthefront,andTaylorgetsinbehindme.Neitherofthemsays
awordasChristianstartsthecarandpullsoutintothetraffic.Iriskaquick
glanceatFifty.Hismouthissetinafirmline,butheseemsdistracted.Thein-
carphonerings.
“Grey,”Christiansnaps.
“Mr.Grey,Barneyhere.”
“Barney,I’monspeakerphone,andthereareothersinthecar,”Christian
warns.
“Sir,it’salldone.ButIneedtotalktoyouaboutwhatelseIfoundonMr.
Hyde’scomputer.”
“I’llcallyouwhenIreachmydestination.Andthanks,Barney.”
“Noproblem,Mr.Grey.”
Barneyhangsup.HesoundsmuchyoungerthanIexpected.
WhatelseisonJack’scomputer?
“Areyoutalkingtome?”Iaskquietly.
Christianglancesatme,beforefixinghiseyesbackontheroadahead,andI
cantellhe’sstillmad.
“No,”hemutterssullenly.
Oh,therewego…howchildish.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyselfandstare
unseeingoutthewindow.PerhapsIshouldjustaskhimtodropmeoffatmy
apartment,thenhecan
“nottalk”tomefromthesafetyofEscalaandsaveusboththeinevitable
quarrel.ButevenasIthinkit,IknowIdon’twanttoleavehimtobrood,not
afteryesterday.
Eventually,wepullupinfrontofhisapartmentbuilding,andChristianclimbs
outofthecar.Movingwitheasygracearoundtomyside,heopensmydoor.
“Come,”heordersasTaylorclambersintothedriver’sseat.Itakehis
profferedhandandfollowhimthroughthegrandfoyertotheelevator.He
doesn’tletgoofme.
“Christian,whyareyousomadatme?”Iwhisperaswewait.
“Youknowwhy,”hemuttersaswestepintotheelevator,andhepunchesin
thecodetohisfloor.“God,ifsomethinghadhappenedtoyou,he’dbedead
bynow.”Christian’stonechillsmetothebone.Thedoorsclose.
“Asitis,I’mgoingtoruinhiscareersohecan’ttakeadvantageofyoung
womenanymore,miserableexcuseforamanthatheis.”Heshakeshishead.
“Jesus,Ana!”Hegrabsmesuddenly,imprisoningmeinthecornerofthe
elevator.
Hishandsfistinmyhairashepullsmyfaceuptohis,andhismouthison
mine,apassionatedesperationinhiskiss.Idon’tknowwhythistakesmeby
surprise,butitdoes.
Itastehisrelief,hislonging,andhisresidualangerwhilehistonguepossesses
mymouth.
Hestops,gazingdownatme,restinghisweightagainstmesoIcan’tmove.
Heleavesmebreathless,clingingtohimforsupport,staringupintothat
beautifulfaceetchedwithdeterminationandwithoutanytraceofhumour.
“Ifanythinghadhappenedtoyou…Ifhe’dharmedyou…”Ifeelthe
shudderthatrunsthroughhim.“Blackberry,”hecommandsquietly.“From
nowon.Understand?”
Inod,swallowing,unabletobreakeyecontactfromhisgrim,mesmerizing
look.
Hestraightens,releasingmeastheelevatorcomestoastop.“Hesaidyou
kickedhimintheballs.”Christian’stoneislighterwithatraceofadmiration,
andIthinkI’mforgiven.
“Yes,”Iwhisper,stillreelingfromtheintensityofhiskissandhis
impassionedcommand.
“Good.”
“Rayisex-army.Hetaughtmewell.”
“I’mverygladhedid,”hebreathesandadds,archingabrow,“I’llneedto
rememberthat.”Takingmyhand,heleadsmeoutoftheelevatorandIfollow,
relieved.Ithinkthat’sasbadashismoodisgoingtoget.
“IneedtocallBarney.Iwon’tbelong.”Hedisappearsintohisstudy,leaving
mestrandedinthevastlivingroom.Mrs.Jonesisaddingthefinishing
touchestoourmeal.IrealizeIamfamished,butIneedsomethingtodo.
“CanIhelp?”Iask.
Shelaughs.“No,Ana.CanIfixyouadrinkorsomething?Youlookbeat.”
“I’dloveaglassofwine.”
“White?”
“Yes,please.”
Iperchononeofthebarstools,andshehandsmeaglassofchilledwine.I
don’tknowwhatitis,butit’sdeliciousandslidesdowneasily,soothingmy
shatterednerves.WhatwasIthinkingaboutearliertoday?HowaliveIhave
feltsinceImetChristian.Howexcitingmylifehasbecome.Jeez,couldIjust
haveafewboringdays?
WhatifI’dnevermetChristian?I’dbeholedupinmyapartment,talkingit
throughwithEthan,completelyfreakedbymyencounterwithJack,knowing
IwouldhavetofacethesleazeballagainonFriday.Asitis,there’severy
chanceI’llneverseteyesonhimagain.
ButwhowillIworkfornow?Ifrown.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Shit,doIeven
haveajob?
“Evening,Gail,”Christiansaysashecomesbackintothegreatroom,
draggingmefrommythoughts.Headingstraighttothefridge,hepours
himselfaglassofwine.
“Goodevening,Mr.Grey.Dinnerinten,sir?”
“Soundsgood.”
Christianraiseshisglass.
“Toex-militarymenwhotraintheirdaughterswell,”hesaysandhiseyes
soften.
“Cheers,”Imutter,raisingmyglass.
“What’swrong?”Christianasks.
“Idon’tknowifIstillhaveajob.”
Hecockshisheadtotheside.“Doyoustillwantone?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Thenyoustillhaveone.”
Simple.See?Heismasterofmyuniverse.Irollmyeyesathimandhe
smiles.
Mrs.Jonesmakesameanchickenpotpie.Shehasleftustoenjoythefruitsof
herlabours,andIfeelmuchbetternowI’vehadsomethingtoeat.Weare
sittingatthebreakfastbar,anddespitemybestcajoling,Christianwon’ttell
mewhatBarneyhasfoundonJack’scomputer.Idropthesubject,anddecide
totackleinsteadthethornyissueofJosé’simpendingvisit.
“Josécalled,”Isaynonchalantly.
“Oh?”Christianturnstofaceme.
“HewantstodeliveryourphotosonFriday.”
“Apersonaldelivery.Howaccommodatingofhim,”Christianmutters.
“Hewantstogoout.Foradrink.Withme.”
“Isee.”
“AndKateandElliotshouldbeback,”Iaddquickly.
Christianputshisforkdown,frowningatme.
“Whatexactlyareyouasking?”
Ibristle.“I’mnotaskinganything.I’minformingyouofmyplansforFriday.
Look,IwanttoseeJosé,andhewantstostayover.Eitherhestayshereorhe
canstayatmyplace,butifhedoesIshouldbethere,too.”
Christian’seyeswiden.Helooksdumbfounded.
“Hemadeapassatyou.”
“Christian,thatwasweeksago.Hewasdrunk,Iwasdrunk,yousavedtheday
—itwon’thappenagain.He’snoJack,forheaven’ssake.”
“Ethan’sthere.Hecankeephimcompany.”
“Hewantstoseeme,notEthan.”
Christianscowlsatme.
“He’sjustafriend.”Myvoiceisemphatic.
“Idon’tlikeit.”
Sowhat?Jeez,he’sirritatingsometimes.Itakeadeepbreath.“He’smy
friend,Christian.Ihaven’tseenhimsincehisshow.Andthatwastoobrief.I
knowyoudon’thaveanyfriends,apartfromthatgod-awfulwoman,butI
don’tmoanaboutyouseeingher,”Isnap.
Christianblinks,shocked.“Iwanttoseehim.I’vebeenapoorfriendtohim.”
Mysubconsciousisalarmed.Areyoustampingyourlittlefoot?Steadynow!
Grayeyesblazeatme.“Isthatwhatyouthink?”hebreathes.
“Thinkaboutwhat?”
“Elena.You’dratherIdidn’tseeher?”
Holycow.“Exactly.I’dratheryoudidn’tseeher.”
“Whydidn’tyousay?”
“Becauseit’snotmyplacetosay.Youthinkshe’syouronlyfriend.”Ishrug
inexasperation.Hereallydoesn’tgetit.Howdidthisturnintoaconversation
abouther?Idon’tevenwanttothinkabouther.ItrytosteerusbacktoJosé.
“Justasit’snotyourplacetosayifIcanorcan’tseeJosé.Don’tyousee
that?”
Christiangazesatme,perplexed,Ithink.Oh,whatishethinking?
“Hecanstayhere,Isuppose,”hemutters.“Icankeepaneyeonhim.”He
soundspetulant.
Hallelujah!
“Thankyou!Youknow,ifIamgoingtolivehere,too…”Itrailoff.Christian
nods.
HeknowswhatI’mtryingtosay.“It’snotlikeyouhaven’tgotthespace.”I
smirk.
Hislipsquirkupslowly.“Areyousmirkingatme,MissSteele?”
“Mostdefinitely,Mr.Grey.”Igetupjustincasehispalmsstarttwitching,
clearourplates,andthenloadthemintothedishwasher.
“Gailwilldothat.”
“I’vedoneitnow.”Istandupandgazeathim.He’swatchingmeintently.
“Ihavetoworkforawhile,”hesaysapologetically.
“Cool.I’llfindsomethingtodo.”
“Comehere,”heorders,buthisvoiceissoftandseductive,hiseyesheated.I
don’thesitatetowalkintohisarms,claspinghimaroundhisneckashe
perchesonhisbarstool.
Hewrapshisarmsaroundme,crushesmetohim,andjustholdsme.
“Areyouokay?”hewhispersintomyhair.
“Okay?”
“Afterwhathappenedwiththatfucker?Afterwhathappenedyesterday?”he
adds,hisvoicequietandearnest.
Igazeintodark,serious,greyeyes.AmIokay?“Yes,”Iwhisper.
Hisarmstightenaroundme,andIfeelsafe,cherished,andlovedallatonce.
It’sblissful.Closingmyeyes,Ienjoythefeelofbeinginhisarms.Ilovethis
man.Ilovehisintoxicatingscent,hisstrength,hismercurialways—myFifty.
“Let’snotfight,”hemurmurs.Hekissesmyhairandinhalesdeeply.“You
smellheavenlyasusual,Ana.”
“Sodoyou,”Iwhisperandkisshisneck.
Alltoosoonhereleasesme.“Ishouldonlybeacoupleofhours.”
Iwanderlistlesslythroughtheapartment.Christianisstillworking.Ihave
showeredanddressedinsomesweatsandaT-shirtofmyown,andI’mbored.
Idon’twanttoread.IfIsitstill,I’llrecallJackandhisfingersonme.
Icheckoutmyoldbedroom,thesubs’room.Josécansleephere—he’lllike
theview.
It’sabouteightfifteen,andthesunisbeginningtosinkintothewest.The
lightsofthecitytwinklebelowme.It’sglorious.Yes,Joséwilllikeithere.I
wonderidlywhereChristianwillhangJosé’spicturesofme.I’dratherhe
didn’t.Iamnotkeenonlookingatmyself.
BackdownthehallwayIfindmyselfoutsidetheplayroom,andwithout
thinking,Itrythedoorhandle.Christiannormallykeepsitlocked,buttomy
surprise,thedooropens.
Howstrange.Feelinglikeachildplayinghookyandstrayingintothe
forbiddenforest,Iwalkin.It’sdark.Iflicktheswitchandthelightsunderthe
cornicelightupwithasoftglow.It’sasIrememberit.Awomb-likeroom.
MemoriesofthelasttimeIwasinhereflashthroughmymind.Thebelt…I
winceattherecollection.Nowithangsinnocently,linedupwithothers,on
therackbesidethedoor.TentativelyIrunmyfingersoverthebelts,the
floggers,thepaddles,andthewhips.
Sheesh.ThisiswhatIneedtosquarewithDr.Flynn.Cansomeoneinthis
lifestylejuststop?Itseemssoimprobable.Wanderingovertothebed,Isiton
softredsatinsheets,gazingaroundatalltheapparatus.
Besidemeisthebench,abovethattheassortmentofcanes.Somany!Surely
oneisenough?Well,thelesssaidaboutthatthebetter.Andthelargetable.
Wenevertriedthat,whateverhedoesonit.Myeyesfallonthechesterfield,
andImoveovertositonit.It’sjustacouch,nothingextraordinaryaboutit—
nothingtofastenanythingto,notthatIcansee.Glancingbehindme,Ispythe
museumchest.Mycuriosityispiqued.Whatdoeshekeepinthere?
AsIpullopenthetopdrawerIrealizemybloodispoundingthroughmy
veins.WhyamIsonervous?Thisfeelssoillicit,asifI’mtrespassing,which
ofcourseIam.Butifhewantstomarryme,well…
Holyfuck,what’sallthis?Anarrayofinstrumentsandbizarreimplements—I
don’thaveacluewhattheyare,orwhatthey’refor—arecarefullylaidoutin
thedisplaydrawer.
Ipickoneup.It’sbullet-shapedwithasortofhandle.Hmm…whatthehell
doyoudowiththat?Mymindboggles,thoughIthinkIhaveanidea.Jeez,
therearefourdifferentsizes!
MyscalppricklesandIglanceup.
Christianisstandinginthedoorway,staringatme,hisfaceunreadable.How
longhashebeenthere?IfeellikeI’vebeencaughtwithmyhandinthe
cookiejar.
“Hi.”Ismilenervouslyathim,andIknowmyeyesarewideandthatI’m
deathlypale.
“Whatareyoudoing?”hesayssoftly,butthere’sanundercurrentinhistone.
Ohshit.Ishemad?Iflush.“Er…Iwasboredandcurious,”Imutter,
embarrassedtobefoundout.Hesaidhe’dbetwohours.
“That’saverydangerouscombination.”Herunshislongindexfingeracross
hislowerlipinquietcontemplation,nottakinghiseyesoffme.Iswallowand
mymouthisdry.
Slowly,heenterstheroomandclosesthedoorquietlybehindhim,hiseyes
liquidgreyfire.Ohmy.Heleanscasuallyoverthechestofdrawers,butI
thinkhisstanceisdeceptive.
Myinnergoddessdoesn’tknowwhetherit’sfightorflighttime.
“So,whatexactlyareyoucuriousabout,MissSteele?PerhapsIcould
enlightenyou.”
“Thedoorwasopen…I—”IgazeatChristianasIholdmybreathandblink,
uncertainaseverofhisreactionorwhatIshouldsay.Hiseyesaredark.I
thinkhe’samused,butit’sdifficulttotell.Heplaceshiselbowsonthe
museumchestandrestshischinonhisclaspedhands.
“Iwasinhereearliertodaywonderingwhattodowithitall.Imusthave
forgottentolockit.”Hescowlsmomentarilyasifleavingthedoorunlocked
isaterriblelapseinjudgment.Ifrown—it’snotlikehimtobeforgetful.
“Oh?”
“Butnowhereyouare,curiousasever.”Hisvoiceissoft,puzzled.
“You’renotmad?”Iwhisper,usingmyremainingbreath.
Hecockshisheadtooneside,andhislipstwitchinamusement.
“WhywouldIbemad?”
“IfeellikeI’mtrespassing…andyou’realwaysmadatme.”Myvoiceis
quiet,thoughI’mrelieved.Christian’sbrowcreasesoncemore.
“Yes,you’retrespassing,butI’mnotmad.Ihopethatonedayyou’lllivewith
mehere,andallthis”—hegesturesvaguelyroundtheroomwithonehand
—“willbeyours,too.”
Myplayroom…eh?Igapeathim—that’salottotakein.
“That’swhyIwasinheretoday.Tryingtodecidewhattodo.”Hetapshislips
withhisindexfinger.“AmIangrywithyouallthetime?Iwasn’tthis
morning.”
Oh,that’strue.IsmileatthememoryofChristianwhenwewoke,andit
distractsmefromthethoughtofwhatwillbecomeoftheplayroom.Hewas
suchfunFiftythismorning.
“Youwereplayful.IlikeplayfulChristian.”
“Doyounow?”Hearchesaneyebrow,andhisbeautifulmouthcurvesupina
smile,ashysmile.Wow!
“What’sthis?”Iholdupthesilverbulletthing.
“Alwayshungryforinformation,MissSteele.That’sabuttplug,”hesays
gently.
“Oh…”
“Boughtforyou.”
What?“Forme?”
Henodsslowly,hisfacenowseriousandwary.
Ifrown.“Youbuynew,er…toys…foreachsubmissive?”
“Somethings.Yes.”
“Buttplugs?”
“Yes.”
Okay…Iswallow.Buttplug.It’ssolidmetal—surelythat’suncomfortable?I
rememberourdiscussionaboutsextoysandhardlimitsafterIgraduated.I
thinkatthetimeIsaidIwouldtry.Now,actuallyseeingone,Idon’tknowif
it’ssomethingIwanttodo.Iexamineitoncemoreandplaceitbackinthe
drawer.
“Andthis?”Itakeoutalong,blackrubberyobject,madeofgradually
diminishingsphericalbubblesjoinedtogether,thefirstonelargeandthelast
muchsmaller.Eightbubblesintotal.
“Analbeads,”saysChristian,watchingmecarefully.
Oh!Iexaminethemwithfascinatedhorror.Allofthese,insideme…there!I
hadnoidea.
“Theyhavequiteaneffectifyoupullthemoutmid-orgasm,”headdsmatter-
of-factly.
“Thisisforme?”Iwhisper.
“Foryou.”Henodsslowly.
“Thisisthebuttdrawer?”
Hesmirks.“Ifyoulike.”
Icloseitquickly,flushinglikeastoplight.
“Don’tyoulikethebuttdrawer?”heasksinnocently,amused.Igazeathim
andshrug,tryingtobrazenoutmyshock.
“It’snottopofmyChristmascardlist,”Imutternonchalantly.Tentatively,I
opentheseconddrawer.Hegrins.
“Nextdrawerdownholdsaselectionofvibrators.”
Ishutthedrawerquickly.
“Andthenext?”Iwhisper,ashenoncemore,butthistimewith
embarrassment.
“That’smoreinteresting.”
Oh!HesitantlyIpullthedraweropen,nottakingmyeyesoffhisbeautifulbut
rathersmugface.Insidethereareanassortmentofmetalitemsandsome
clothespins.Clothespins!Ipickupalargemetalclip-likedevice.
“Genitalclamp,”Christiansays.Hestandsupandmovescasuallyaroundso
thathe’sbesideme.Iputitbackimmediatelyandchoosesomethingmore
delicate—twosmallclipsonachain.
“Someoftheseareforpain,butmostareforpleasure,”hemurmurs.
“What’sthis?”
“Nippleclamps—that’sforboth.”
“Both?Nipples?”
Christiansmirksatme.“Well,therearetwoclamps,baby.Yes,bothnipples,
butthat’snotwhatImeant.Theseareforbothpleasureandpain.”
Oh.Hetakesitfromme.
“Holdoutyourlittlefinger.”
Idoasheasks,andheclampsonecliptothetipofmyfinger.It’snottoo
harsh.
“Thesensationisveryintense,butit’swhentakingthemoffthattheyareat
theirmostpainfulandpleasurable.”Iremovetheclip.Hmm,thatmightbe
nice.Isquirmatthethought.
“Ilikethelookofthese,”ImurmurandChristiansmiles.
“Doyounow,MissSteele?IthinkIcantell.”
Inodshyly,bitingmylip.HereachesupandtugsonmychinsoIreleasemy
bottomlip.“Youknowwhatthatdoestome,”hemurmurs.
Iputtheclipsbackinthedrawer,andChristianleansforwardandpullsout
twomore.
“Theseareadjustable.”Heholdsthemupformetoinspect.
“Adjustable?”
“Youcanwearthemverytight…ornot.Dependingonyourmood.”
Howdoeshemakethatsoundsoerotic?Iswallow,andtodiverthisattention,
pulloutadevicethatlookslikeaspikypastrycutter.
“This?”Ifrown.Nobakingintheplayroom,surely.
“That’saWartenbergpinwheel.”
“For?”
Hereachesoverandtakesitfromme.“Givemeyourhand.Palmup.”
Iofferhimmylefthandandhetakesitgently,skatinghisthumbovermy
knuckles.Ashiverrunsthroughme.Hisskinagainstmine,itneverfailsto
thrillme.Herunsthewheelovermypalm.
“Ah!”Theprongsbiteintomyskin—there’smorethanjustpain.Infact,it
ticklesslightly.
“Imaginethatoveryourbreasts,”Christianmurmurslasciviously.
Oh!Iflushandsnatchmyhandback.Mybreathingandheartrateincrease.
Holycow.
“There’safinelinebetweenpleasureandpain,Anastasia,”hesayssoftlyas
heleansdownandputsthedevicebackinthedrawer.
“Clothespins?”Iwhisper.
“Youcandoagreatdealwithaclothespins.”Hisgreyeyesburn.
Ileanagainstthedrawersoitcloses.
“Isthatall?”Christianlooksamused.
“No…”Ipullopenthefourthdrawertobeconfoundedbyamassofleather
andstraps.Itugatoneofthestraps…itappearstobeattachedtoaball.
“Ballgag.Tokeepyouquiet,”saysChristian,amusedoncemore.
“Softlimit,”Imutter.
“Iremember,”hesays.“Butyoucanstillbreathe.Yourteethclampoverthe
ball.”Takingitfromme,hereplicatesamouthclampingdownontheball
withhisfingers.
“Haveyouwornoneofthese?”Iask.
Hestillsandgazesdownatme.“Yes.”
“Tomaskyourscreams?”
Hecloseshiseyes,andIthinkit’sinexasperation.“No,that’snotwhat
they’reabout.”
Oh?
“It’saboutcontrol,Anastasia.Howhelplesswouldyoubeifyouweretiedup
andcouldn’tspeak?Howtrustingwouldyouhavetobe,knowingIhadthat
muchpoweroveryou?ThatIhadtoreadyourbodyandyourreaction,rather
thanhearyourwords?Itmakesyoumoredependent,putsmeinultimate
control.”
Iswallow.
“Yousoundlikeyoumissit.”
“It’swhatIknow,”hemurmurs,gazingdownatme.Hisgreyeyesarewide
andserious,andtheatmospherebetweenushaschangedasifhe’sinthe
confessional.
“Youhavepoweroverme.Youknowyoudo,”Iwhisper.
“DoI?Youmakemefeel…helpless.”
“No!”OhFifty…“Why?”
“Becauseyou’retheonlypersonIknowwhocouldreallyhurtme.”He
reachesupandtucksmyhairbehindmyear.
“Oh,Christian…thatworksbothways.Ifyoudidn’twantme—”Ishudder,
glancingdownatmytwistingfingers.Thereinlaysmyotherdarkreservation
aboutus.Ifhewasn’tso…broken,wouldhewantme?Ishakemyhead.I
musttrynottothinklikethat.
“ThelastthingIwanttodoishurtyou.Iloveyou,”Imurmur,reachingupto
runmyfingersthroughhissideburnandgentlystrokehischeek.Heleanshis
faceintomytouch,dropsthegagbackinthedrawer,andreachesforme,his
handsaroundmywaist.Hepullsmeagainsthim.
“Havewefinishedshowandtell?”heasks,hisvoicesoftandseductive.His
handmovesupmybacktothenapeofmyneck.
“Why?Whatdidyouwanttodo?”
Hebendsandkissesmegently,andImeltagainsthim,graspinghisarms.
“Ana,youwerenearlyattackedtoday.”Hisvoiceissoftbutice-coldand
wary.
“So?”Iask,enjoyingthefeelofhishandatmybackandhisproximity.He
pullshisheadbackandscowlsdownatme.
“Whatdoyoumean,‘so?’”herebukes.
Igazeupintohislovely,grumpyface,andI’mdazzled.
“Christian,I’mfine.”
Hewrapsmeinhisarms,holdingmeclose.“WhenIthinkwhatmighthave
happened,”hebreathes,buryinghisfaceinmyhair.
“WhenwillyoulearnthatI’mstrongerthanIlook?”Iwhisperreassuringly
intohisneck,inhalinghisdeliciousscent.Thereisnothingbetteronthe
planetthanbeinginChristian’sarms.
“Iknowyou’restrong,”Christianmusesquietly.Hekissesmyhair,thento
mygreatdisappointment,releasesme.Oh?
BendingdownIfishanotheritemoutoftheopendrawer.Severalcuffs
attachedtoabar.Iholditup.
“That,”saysChristian,hiseyesdarkening,“isaspreaderbarwithankleand
wristrestraints.”
“Howdoesitwork?”Iask,genuinelyintrigued.Myinnergoddesspopsher
headoutofherbunker.
“Youwantmetoshowyou?”hebreathesinsurprise,closinghiseyesbriefly.
Iblinkathim.Whenheopenshiseyes,theyareblazing.
Ohmy.“Yes,Iwantademonstration.Ilikebeingtiedup,”Iwhisperasmy
innergoddesspolevaultsfromthebunkerontoherchaiselongue.
“Oh,Ana,”hemurmurs.Helookspainedallofasudden.
“What?”
“Nothere.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Iwantyouinmybed,notinhere.Come.”Hegrabsthebarandmyhand,
thenleadsmepromptlyoutoftheroom.
Whyareweleaving?Iglancebehindmeasweexit.“Whynotinthere?”
Christianstopsonthestairsandgazesupatme,hisexpressiongrave.
“Ana,youmaybereadytogobackinthere,butI’mnot.Lasttimewewerein
there,youleftme.Ikeeptellingyou—whenwillyouunderstand?”He
frowns,releasingmesothathecangesticulatewithhisfreehand.
“Mywholeattitudehaschangedasaresult.Mywholeoutlookonlifehas
radicallyshifted.I’vetoldyouthis.WhatIhaven’ttoldyouis—”Hestops
andrunshishandthroughhishair,searchingforthecorrectwords.“I’mlikea
recoveringalcoholic,okay?That’stheonlycomparisonIcandraw.The
compulsionhasgone,butIdon’twanttoputtemptationinmyway.Idon’t
wanttohurtyou.”
Helookssoremorseful,andinthatmoment,asharpnaggingpainlances
throughme.
WhathaveIdonetothisman?HaveIimprovedhislife?Hewashappy
beforehemetme,wasn’the?
“Ican’tbeartohurtyoubecauseIloveyou,”headds,gazingupatme,his
expressiononeofabsolutesinceritylikeasmallboytellingaverysimple
truth.
He’scompletelyguileless,andhetakesmybreathaway.Iadorehimmore
thananythingoranyone.Idolovethismanunconditionally.
Ilaunchmyselfathimsohardthathehastodropwhathe’scarryingtocatch
measIpushhimupagainstthewall.Grabbinghisfacebetweenmyhands,I
pullhislipstomine.IcantastehissurpriseasIpushmytongueintohis
mouth.Iamstandingonthestepabovehim—we’reatthesamelevel,andI
feeleuphoricallyempowered.Kissinghimpassionately,myfingerstwisting
intohishair,Iwanttotouchhim,everywhere,butrestrainmyself,knowing
hisfear.Regardless,mydesireunfurls,hotandheavy,blossomingdeepinside
me.Hegroansandgrabsmyshoulders,pushingmeaway.
“Doyouwantmetofuckyouonthestairs?”hemutters,hisbreathingragged.
“Becauserightnow,Iwill.”
“Yes,”ImurmurandI’msuremydarkgazematcheshis.
Heglaresatme,hiseyeshoodedandheavy.“No.Iwantyouinmybed.”He
scoopsmeupsuddenlyoverhisshoulder,makingmesqueal,loudly,and
smacksmehardonmybehind,sothatIsquealagain.Asheheadsdownthe
stairs,hestoopstopickupthefallenspreaderbar.
Mrs.Jonesiscomingoutoftheutilityroomwhenwepassthroughthehall.
Shesmilesatus,andIgiveheranapologeticupside-downwave.Idon’tthink
Christiannoticesher.
Inthebedroom,hesetsmedownonmyfeetanddropsthespreaderontothe
bed.
“Idon’tthinkyou’llhurtme,”Ibreathe.
“Idon’tthinkI’llhurtyou,either,”hesays.Hetakesmyheadinhishands
andkissesme,longandhard,ignitingmyalreadyheatedblood.
“Iwantyousomuch,”hewhispersagainstmymouth,panting.“Areyousure
aboutthis—aftertoday?’
“Yes.Iwantyou,too.Iwanttoundressyou.”Ican’twaittogetmyhandson
him—myfingersareitchingtotouchhim.
Hiseyeswidenandforamoment,hehesitates,perhapstoconsidermy
request.
“Okay,”hesayscautiously.
Ireachforthesecondbuttononhisshirtandhearhimcatchhisbreath.
“Iwon’ttouchyouifyoudon’twantmeto,”Iwhisper.
“No,”herespondsquickly.“Do.It’sfine.I’mgood,”hemutters.
Igentlyundothebuttonandmyfingersglidedownhisshirttothenext.His
eyesarelargeandluminous,hislipspartedashisbreathingshallows.Heisso
beautiful,eveninhisfear…becauseofhisfear.Iundothethirdbuttonand
noticehissofthairpokingthroughthelargeVoftheshirt.
“Iwanttokissyouthere,”Imurmur.
Heinhalessharply.“Kissme?”
“Yes,”Imurmur.
HisgaspsasIundothenextbuttonandveryslowlyleanforward,makingmy
intentionclear.He’sholdinghisbreath,butstandsstock-stillasIplanta
gentlekissamongthesoft,exposedcurls.Iundothefinalbuttonandliftmy
facetohim.He’sgazingatme,andthere’salookofsatisfaction,calm,and…
wonderonhisface.
“It’sgettingeasier,isn’tit?”Iwhisper.
HenodsasIslowlypushhisshirtoffhisshouldersandletitfalltothefloor.
“Whathaveyoudonetome,Ana?”hemurmurs.“Whateveritis,don’tstop.”
Andhegathersmeinhisarms,fistingbothhishandsinmyhairandpulling
myheadrightbacksothathecanhaveeasyaccesstomythroat.
Herunshislipsuptomyjaw,nippingsoftly.Igroan.Oh,Iwantthisman.
Myfingersfumbleathiswaistband,undoingthebuttonandpullingdownthe
zipper.
“Oh,baby,”hebreathesashekissesmebehindmyear.Ifeelhiserection,
firmandhard,strainingagainstme.Iwanthim—inmymouth.Istepback
abruptlyanddroptomyknees.
“Whoa?”hegasps.
Itughispantsandboxerssharply,andhespringsfree.Beforehecanstopme,
Itakehimintomymouth,suckinghard,enjoyinghisshockedastonishment
ashismouthdropsopen.Hegazesdownatme,watchingmyeverymove,
eyessodarkandfilledwithcarnalbliss.Ohmy.Isheathmyteethandsuck
harder.Hecloseshiseyesandsurrenderstothisblissfulcarnalpleasureisso
arousing.IknowwhatIdotohim,andit’shedonistic,liberating,andsexyas
hell.Thefeelingisheady,I’mnotjustpowerful—I’momniscient.
“Fuck,”hehissesandgentlycradlesmyhead,flexinghishipssohemoves
deeperinsidemymouth.Ohyes,IwantthisandIswirlmytonguearound
him,pullinghard…
overandover.
“Ana.”Hetriestostepback.
Ohnoyoudon’t,Grey.Iwantyou.Igrabhishipsfirmly,doublingmyefforts,
andIcantellhe’sclose.
“Please,”hepants.“I’mgonnacome,Ana,”hegroans.
Good.Myinnergoddess’sheadisthrownbackinecstasy,andhecomes,
loudlyandwetly,intomymouth.
Heopenshisbrightgreyeyes,gazingdownatme,andIsmileupathim,
lickingmylips.Hegrinsbackatme,awicked,salaciousgrin.
“Oh,sothisisthegamewe’replaying,MissSteele?”Hebends,hookshis
handsundermyarms,andpullsmetomyfeet.Suddenlyhismouthison
mine.Hegroans.
“Icantastemyself.Youtastebetter,”hemurmursagainstmylips.Hetugsmy
T-shirtoffandthrowsitcarelesslyontothefloor,thenpicksmeupandtosses
meontothebed.
Grabbingtheendofmysweats,hetugsabruptlysothattheycomeoffinone
swiftmove.
I’mnakedunderneath,sprawledacrosshisbed.Waiting.Wanting.Hiseyes
drinkmein,andslowlyheremoveshisremainingclothes,nottakinghiseyes
offme.
“Youareonebeautifulwoman,Anastasia,”hemurmursappreciatively.
Hmm…Itiltmyheadcoquettishlytoonesideandbeamathim.
“Youareonebeautifulman,Christian,andyoutastemightyfine.”
Hegivesmeawickedgrinandreachesforthespreaderbar.Grabbingmyleft
ankle,hequicklycuffsit,strappingthebuckletightly,butnottootight.He
testshowmuchroomIhavebyslidinghislittlefingerbetweenthecuffand
myankle.Hedoesn’ttakehiseyesoffmine;hedoesn’tneedtoseewhathe’s
doing.Hmm…he’sdonethisbefore.
“We’llhavetoseehowyoutaste.IfIrecall,you’rearare,exquisitedelicacy,
MissSteele.”
Oh.
Graspingmyotherankle,hequicklyandefficientlycuffsthatoneaswell,so
thatmyfeetareabouttwofeetapart.
“Thegoodthingaboutthisspreaderis,itexpands,”hemurmurs.Heclicks
somethingonthebar,thenpushes,somylegsspreadfurther.Whoa,threefeet
apart.Mymouthdropsopen,andItakeadeepbreath.Fuck,thisishot.I’m
onfire,restlessandneedy.
Christianlickshislowerlip.
“Oh,we’regoingtohavesomefunwiththis,Ana.”Reachingdownhegrasps
thebarandtwistsitsoIflipontomyfront.Ittakesmebysurprise.
“SeewhatIcandotoyou?”hesaysdarklyandtwistsitagainabruptly,soI
amoncemoreonmyback,gapingupathim,breathless.
“Theseothercuffsareforyourwrists.I’llthinkaboutthat.Dependsifyou
behaveornot.”“WhendoInotbehave?”
“Icanthinkofafewinfractions,”hesayssoftly,runninghisfingersupthe
solesofmyfeet.Ittickles,butthebarholdsmeinplace,thoughItryto
writheawayfromhisfingers.
“YourBlackberry,forone.”
Igasp.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Oh,Ineverdisclosemyplans.”Hesmirks,hiseyesalightwithpure
devilment.
Holycow.He’ssomind-bogglinglysexy,ittakesmybreathaway.
Hecrawlsupthebedsothathe’skneelingbetweenmylegs,gloriouslynaked,
andI’mhelpless.
“Hmm.Youaresoexposed,MissSteele.”Herunsthefingersofbothhis
handsuptheinsideofeachofmylegs,slowly,surely,makingsmallcircular
patterns.Neverbreakingeyecontactwithme.
“It’sallaboutanticipation,Ana.WhatwillIdotoyou?”Hissoftlyspoken
wordspenetraterighttothedeepest,darkest,partofme.Iwriggleonthebed
andmoan.Hisfingerscontinuetheirslowassaultupmylegs,pastthebacks
ofmyknees.Instinctively,IwanttoclosemylegsbutIcan’t.
“Remember,ifyoudon’tlikesomething,justtellmetostop,”hemurmurs.
Bendingover,hekissesmybelly,soft,suckykisseswhilehishandscontinue
theirslowtortuousjourneynorthupmyinnerthighs,touchingandteasing.
“Ohplease,Christian,”Iplead.
“Oh,MissSteele.I’vediscoveredyoucanbemercilessinyouramorous
assaultsuponme.IthinkIshouldreturnthefavour.”
MyfingersclutchtheduvetasIsurrendermyselftohim,hismouthgently
headingsouth,hisfingersnorth,tothevulnerableandexposedapexofmy
thighs.Igroanasheeaseshisfingersinsidemeandbuckmypelvisupto
meetthem.Christianmoansinresponse.
“Youneverceasetoamazeme,Ana.You’resowet,”hemurmursagainstthe
linewheremypubichairjoinsmybelly.Mybodybowsashismouthfinds
me.
Ohmy.
Hebeginsaslowandsensualassault,histongueswirlingaroundandaround
whilehisfingersmoveinsideme.BecauseIcan’tclosemylegs,ormove,it’s
intense,reallyintense.
MybackarchesasItrytoabsorbthesensations.
“Oh,Christian,”Icry.
“Iknow,baby,”hewhispers,andtoeaseuponme,heblowssoftlyonthe
mostsensitivepartofmybody.
“Arrgh!Please!”Ibeg.
“Saymyname,”hecommands.
“Christian,”Icall,hardlyrecognizingmyownvoice—it’ssohigh-pitched
andneedy.
“Again,”hebreathes.
“Christian,Christian,ChristianGrey,”Icalloutloudly.
“Youaremine.”Hisvoiceissoftanddeadlyandwithonelastflickofhis
tongue,Ifall—spectacularly—embracingmyorgasm,andbecausemylegs
aresofarapart,itgoesonandonandIamlost.
Vaguely,I’mawarethatChristianhasflippedmeontomyfront.
“We’regoingtotrythis,baby.Ifyoudon’tlikeit,orit’stoouncomfortable,
tellme,andwe’llstop.”
What?Iamtoolostintheafterglowtoformanysentientorcoherent
thoughts.IamsittingonChristian’slap.Howdidthathappen?
“Leandown,baby,”hemurmursatmyear.“Headandchestonthebed.”
InadazeIdoasI’mtold.Hepullsbothmyhandsbackwardandcuffsthem
tothebar,nexttomyankles.Oh…Mykneesaredrawnup,myassintheair,
utterlyvulnerable,completelyhis.
“Ana,youlooksobeautiful.”Hisvoiceisfullofwonder,andIheartheripof
foil.Herunshisfingersfromthebaseofmyspinedowntowardmysexand
pausesabeatovermyass.“Whenyou’reready,Iwantthis,too.”Hisfingeris
hoveringoverme.IgasploudlyasIfeelmyselftenseunderhisgentle
probing.“Nottoday,sweetAna,butoneday…Iwantyoueveryway.Iwant
topossesseveryinchofyou.You’remine.”
Ithinkaboutthebuttplug,andeverythingtightensdeepinsideme.Hiswords
makemegroan,andhisfingersmovedownandaroundtomorefamiliar
territory.
Momentslater,he’sslammingintome.“Aagh!Gently,”Icry,andhestills.
“Youokay?”
“Gently…letmegetusedtothis.”
Heeasesslowlyoutofmetheneasesgentlyback,fillingme,stretchingme,
twice,thrice,andIamhelpless.
“Yes,good,I’vegotitnow,”Imurmur,relishingthefeeling.
Hegroans,andpicksuphisrhythm.Moving,moving…relentless…
onward,inward,fillingme…andit’sexquisite.There’sjoyinmy
helplessness,joyinmysurrendertohim,andtoknowthathecanlosehimself
inmethewayhewantsto.Icandothis.Hetakesmetothesedarkplaces,
placesIdidn’tknowexisted,andtogetherwefillthemwithblindinglight.Oh
yes…blazing,blindinglight.
AndIletgo,gloryinginwhathedoestome,findingmysweet,sweetrelease,
asIcomeagain,loudly,screaminghisname.Andhestills,pouringhisheart
andsoulintome.
“Ana,baby,”hecriesandcollapsesbesideme.
Hisfingersdeftlyundothestraps,andherubsmyanklesthenmywrists.
Whenhe’sfinishedandI’mfinallyfree,hepullsmeintohisarmsandIdrift,
exhausted.
WhenIsurfaceagain,Iamcurledbesidehimandhe’sgazingatme.Ihaveno
ideawhatthetimeis.
“Icouldwatchyousleepforever,Ana,”hemurmursandhekissesmy
forehead.
Ismileandshiftlanguorouslybesidehim.
“Ineverwanttoletyougo,”hesayssoftlyandwrapshisarmsaroundme.
Hmm.“Ineverwanttogo.Neverletmego,”Imuttersleepily,myeyelids
refusingtoopen.“Ineedyou,”hewhispers,buthisvoiceisadistant,ethereal
partofmydreams.Heneedsme…needsme…andasIfinallyslipintothe
darkness,mylastthoughtsareofasmallboywithgreyeyesanddirty,messy,
copper-colouredhairsmilingshylyatme.
Hmm.
ChristianisnuzzlingmyneckasIslowlywake.
“Morning,baby,”hewhispersandnipsatmyearlobe.Myeyesflutteropen
andcloseagainquickly.Brightearlymorninglightfloodstheroom,andhis
handissoftlycaressingmybreast,gentlyteasingme.Movingdownhegrasps
myhipasheliesbehindme,holdingmeclose.
Istretchoutbesidehim,relishinghistouch,andfeelhiserectionagainstmy
behind.
Ohmy.AChristianGreywake-upcall.
“You’repleasedtoseeme,”Imumblesleepily,squirmingsuggestively
againsthim.Ifeelhisgrinagainstmyjaw.
“I’mverypleasedtoseeyou,”hesaysasheskateshishandovermystomach
anddowntocupmysexandexplorewithhisfingers.“Therearedefinite
advantagestowakingupbesideyou,MissSteele,”heteasesandgentlypulls
meroundsothatI’mlyingonmyback.
“Sleepwell?”heasksashisfingerscontinuetheirsensualtorture.He’s
smilingdownatme—hisdazzling,all-American-drop-dead-male-model-
perfect-teethsmile.Hetakesmybreathaway.
Myhipsbegintoswaytotherhythmofthedancehisfingershavebegun.He
kissesmechastelyonthelipsandthenmovesdownmyneck,nippingslowly,
kissing,andsuckingashegoes.Imoan.He’sgentleandhistouchislightand
heavenly.Hisintrepidfingersmovedown,andslowlyheeasesoneinsideme,
hissingquietlyinawe.
“Oh,Ana,”hemurmursreverentiallyagainstmythroat.“You’realways
ready.”Hemoveshisfingerintimewithhiskissesashislipsjourney
leisurelyacrossmyclavicleandthendowntomybreast.Hetormentsfirst
one,thentheothernipplewithteethandlips,butoh-so-gently,andthey
tightenandlengtheninsweetresponse.
Igroan.
“Hmm,”hegrowlssoftlyandraiseshisheadtogivemeablazinggrey-eyed
look.“Iwantyounow.”Hereachesovertothebedsidetable.Heshiftsontop
ofme,takinghisweightonhiselbows,andrubshisnosealongminewhile
easingmylegsapartwithhis.Hekneelsupandripsopenthefoilpacket.
“Ican’twaituntilSaturday,”hesays,hiseyesglowingwithsalaciousdelight.
“Yourparty?”Ipant.
“No.Icanstopusingthesefuckers.”
“Aptlynamed.”Igiggle.
Hesmirksatmeasherollsonthecondom.“Areyougiggling,MissSteele?”
“No.”Itryandfailtostraightenmyface.
“Nowisnotthetimeforgiggling.”Heshakeshisheadinadmonishmentand
hisvoiceislow,stern,buthisexpression—holycow—isglacialandvolcanic
atonce.
Mybreathcatchesinmythroat.“IthoughtyoulikeditwhenIgiggle,”I
whisperhoarsely,gazingintothedarkdepthsofhisstormyeyes.
“Notnow.There’satimeandaplaceforgiggling.Thisisneither.Ineedto
stopyou,andIthinkIknowhow,”hesaysominously,andhisbodycovers
mine.
“Whatwouldyoulikeforbreakfast,Ana?”
“I’lljusthavesomegranola.Thankyou,Mrs.Jones.”
IflushasItakemyplaceatthebreakfastbarbesideChristian.ThelasttimeI
seteyesontheveryprimandproperMrs.Jones,Iwasbeing
unceremoniouslydraggedintothebedroomoverChristian’sshoulder.
“Youlooklovely,”Christiansayssoftly.I’mwearingmygreypencilskirtand
greysilkblouseagain.
“Sodoyou.”Ismileshylyathim.He’swearingapaleblueshirtandjeans,
andhelookscoolandfreshandperfect,asalways.
“Weshouldbuyyousomemoreskirts,”hesaysmatter-of-factly.“Infact—I’d
lovetotakeyoushopping.”
Hmm—shopping.Ihateshopping.ButwithChristian,maybeitwon’tbeso
bad.Idecideondistractionasthebestformofdefence.
“Iwonderwhatwillhappenatworktoday?”
“They’llhavetoreplacethesleazeball.”Christianfrowns,scowlingasifhe’s
juststeppedinsomethingextraordinarilyunpleasant.
“Ihopetheytakeonawomanasmynewboss.”
“Why?”
“Well,you’relesslikelytoobjecttomegoingawaywithher,”Iteasehim.
Hislipstwitchandhestartsonhisomelette.
“What’ssofunny?”Iask.
“Youare.Eatyourgranola,allofit,ifthat’sallyou’rehaving.”
Bossyasever.Ipursemylipsathim,butdigin.
“So,thekeygoeshere.”Christianpointsouttheignitionbeneaththe
gearshift.
“Strangeplace,”Imutter.ButI’mdelightedwitheverylittledetail,practically
bouncinglikeasmallchildinthecomfortableleatherseat.Christianhas
finallyletmedrivemycar.Heregardsmecoolly,thoughhiseyesarealight
withhumour.“You’requiteexcitedaboutthis,aren’tyou?”hemurmurs,
amused.
Inod,grinninglikeafool.“Justsmellthatnewcarsmell.Thisisevenbetter
thantheSubmissiveSpecial…um,theA3,”Iaddquickly,blushing.
Christian’smouthtwists.“SubmissiveSpecial,eh?Youhavesuchawaywith
words,MissSteele.”Heleansbackwithafauxlookofdisapproval,buthe
can’tfoolme.Iknowhe’senjoyinghimself.
“Well,let’sgo.”Hewaveshislong-fingeredhandtowardtheentranceofthe
garage.
Iclapmyhands,startthecar,andtheenginepurrstolife.Puttingthegearshift
intodrive,IeasemyfootoffthebrakeandtheSaabmovessmoothlyforward.
TaylorstartsuptheAudibehindusandoncethegaragebarrierlifts,follows
usoutofEscalaontothestreet.
“Canwehavetheradioon?”Iaskaswewaitatthefirststopsign.
“Iwantyoutoconcentrate,”hesayssharply.
“Christian,please,Icandrivewithmusicon.”Irollmyeyes.Hescowlsfora
momentandthenreachesfortheradio.
“YoucanplayyouriPodandmp3discsaswellasCDsonthis,”hemurmurs.
Thetoo-louddulcettonesofThePolicesuddenlyfillthecar.Christianturns
themusicdown.Hmm…“KingofPain.”
“Youranthem,”Iteasehim,theninstantlyregretitwhenhismouthtightensin
athinline.Ohno.“Ihavethisalbum,somewhere.”Icontinuehastilyto
distracthim.Hmm…
somewhereintheapartmentIhavespentverylittletimein.
IwonderhowEthanis.Ishouldtrytocallhimtoday.Iwon’thavemuchto
doatwork.
Anxietybloomsinmystomach.WhatwillhappenwhenIgettotheoffice?
WilleveryoneknowaboutJack?WilleveryoneknowofChristian’s
involvement?WillIstillhaveajob?Sheesh,ifIhavenojob,whatwillIdo?
Marrythegazillionaire,Ana!Mysubconscioushashersnarkyfaceon.I
ignoreher—
rapaciousbitch.
“Hey,MissSmartMouth.Comeback.”Christiandragsmeintothehereand
nowasIpullupatthenextstoplight.
“You’reverydistracted.Concentrate,Ana,”hescolds.“Accidentshappen
whenyoudon’tconcentrate.”
Oh,forheaven’ssake—andsuddenlyI’mcatapultedbackintimetowhen
Raywasteachingmetodrive.Idon’tneedanotherfather.Ahusbandmaybe,
akinkyhusband.
Hmm.
“I’mjustthinkingaboutwork.”
“Baby,you’llbefine.Trustme.”Christiansmiles.
“Pleasedon’tinterfere—Iwanttodothisonmyown.Christian,please.It’s
importanttome,”IsayasgentlyasIcan.Idon’twanttoargue.Hismouth
setsoncemoreintoahardstubbornline,andIthinkhe’sgoingtoberateme
again.
Ohno.
“Let’snotargue,Christian.We’vehadsuchawonderfulmorning.Andlast
nightwas—”Wordsfailme,lastnightwas—“Heaven.”
Hesaysnothing.Iglanceoverathimandhiseyesareclosed.
“Yes.Heaven,”hesayssoftly.“ImeantwhatIsaid.”
“What?”
“Idon’twanttoletyougo.”
“Idon’twanttogo.”
Hesmilesandit’sthisnew,shysmilethatdissolveseverythinginitspath.
Boy,it’spowerful.
“Good,”hesayssimply,andhevisiblyrelaxes.
IdriveintotheparkinglothalfablockfromSIP.
“I’llwalkyoutowork.Taylorwilltakemefromthere,”Christianoffers.I
clamberoutofthecar,restrictedbymypencilskirtwhileChristianclimbsout
gracefully,ateasewithhisbodyorgivingtheimpressionofsomeoneatease
withhisbody.Hmm…someonewhocan’tbeartobetouchedcan’tbethatat
ease.Ifrownatmyerrantthought.
“Don’tforgetwe’reseeingFlynnatseventhisevening,”hesaysasheholds
hishandouttome.Ipresstheremotedoorlockandtakehishand.
“Iwon’tforget.I’llcompilealistofquestionsforhim.”
“Questions?Aboutme?”
Inod.
“Icanansweranyquestionsyouhaveaboutme.”Christianlooksaffronted.
Ismileathim.“Yes,butIwanttheunbiased,expensivecharlatan’sopinion.”
Hefrownsandsuddenlypullsmeintohisembrace,holdingbothmyhands
tightlybehindmyback.
“Isthisagoodidea?”hesays,hisvoicelowandhusky.Ileanbacktoseethe
anxietyloominglargeandwideinhiseyes.Ittearsatmysoul.
“Ifyoudon’twantmeto,Iwon’t.”Istareathim,blinking,wantingtocaress
theconcernoutofhisface.Itugononeofmyhandsandhefreesit.Itouch
hischeektenderly—
it’ssmoothfromshavingthismorning.
“Whatareyouworriedabout?”Iask,myvoicesoftandsoothing.
“Thatyou’llgo.”
“Christian,howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyou—I’mnotgoinganywhere.
You’vealreadytoldmetheworst.I’mnotleavingyou.”
“Thenwhyhaven’tyouansweredme?”
“Answeredyou?”Imurmurdisingenuously.
“YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout,Ana.”
Isigh.“IwanttoknowthatI’menoughforyou,Christian.That’sall.”
“Andyouwon’ttakemywordforit?”hesaysexasperated,releasingme.
“Christian,thishasallbeensoquick.Andbyyourownadmission,you’re
fiftyshadesoffucked-up.Ican’tgiveyouwhatyouneed,”Imutter.“It’sjust
notforme.Butthatmakesmefeelinadequate,especiallyseeingyouwith
Leila.Who’stosaythatonedayyouwon’tmeetsomeonewholikesdoing
whatyoudo?Andwho’stosayyouwon’t,youknow…fallforher?
Someonemuchbettersuitedtoyourneeds.”ThethoughtofChristianwith
anyoneelsesickensme.Istaredownatmyknottedfingers.
“IknewseveralwomenwholikedoingwhatIliketodo.Noneofthem
appealedtomethewayyoudo.I’veneverhadanemotionalconnectionwith
anyofthem.It’sonlyeverbeenyou,Ana.”
“Becauseyounevergavethemachance.You’vespenttoolonglockedupin
yourfortress,Christian.Look,let’sdiscussthislater.Ihavetogotowork.
MaybeDr.Flynncanofferushisinsight.”Thisisallfartooheavya
discussionforaparkinglotateightfiftyinthemorning,andChristian,for
once,seemstoagree.Henodsbuthiseyesarewary.
“Come,”heorders,holdingouthishand.
WhenIreachmydesk,IfindanoteaskingmetogostraighttoElizabeth’s
office.Myheartleapsintomymouth.Oh,thisisit.I’mgoingtogetfired.
“Anastasia.”Elizabethsmileskindly,wavingmeintoachairbeforeherdesk.
Isitandgazeatherexpectantly,hopingthatshecan’thearmythumping
heart.Shesmoothesherthickblackhairandregardswithmewithsombre,
clearblueeyes.
“Ihavesomerathersadnews.”
Sad!Ohno.
“I’vecalledyouintoinformyouthatJackhasleftthecompanyrather
suddenly.”
Iflush.Thisisn’tsadforme.ShouldItellherthatIknow?
“Hisratherhastydeparturehasleftavacancy,andwe’dlikeyoutofillitfor
now,untilwefindareplacement.”
What?Ifeelthebloodrushfrommyhead.Me?
“But,I’veonlybeenhereforaweekorso.”
“Yes,Anastasia,IunderstandbutJackwasalwaysachampionofyour
abilities.Hehadhighhopesforyou.”
Istopbreathing.Hehadhighhopesofgettingmeonmyback,sure.
“Here’sadetailedjobdescription.Haveagoodlookthroughit,andwecan
discussitlatertoday.”
“But—”
“Please,Iknowthisissudden,butyou’vealreadymadecontactwithJack’s
keyauthors.Yourchapternoteshaven’tgoneunnoticedbytheother
commissioningeditors.Youhaveashrewdmind,Anastasia.Weallthinkyou
candoit.”
“Okay.”Thisisunreal.
“Look,thinkaboutit.Inthemeantime,youcantakeJack’soffice.”
Shestands,effectivelydismissingme,andholdsoutherhand.Ishakeitina
completedaze.“I’mgladhe’sgone,”shewhispersandahauntedlookcrosses
herface.Holyshit.
Whatdidhedotoher?
Backatmydesk,IgrabmyBlackberryandcallChristian.
Heanswersonthesecondring.“Anastasia.Youokay?”heasksconcerned.
“They’vejustgivenmeJack’sjobtomind,temporarily,”Iblurtout.
“You’rekidding,”hewhispers,shocked.
“Didyouhaveanythingtodowiththis?”MyvoiceissharperthanImeanit
tobe.
“No—no,notatall.Imean,withallduerespect,Anastasia,you’veonlybeen
thereforaweekorso—andIdon’tmeanthatunkindly.”
“Iknow.”Ifrown.“ApparentlyJackreallyratedme.”
“Didhenow?”Christian’stoneisfrostyandthenhesighs.
“Well,baby,iftheythinkyoucandoit,I’msureyoucan.Congratulations.
Perhapsweshouldcelebrateafterwe’veseenFlynn.”
“Hmm.Areyousureyouhadnothingtodowiththis?”
Heissilentforamoment,andthenhesaysinalowmenacingvoice.“Doyou
doubtme?Itangersmethatyoudo.”
Iswallow.Boy,hegetsmadsoeasily.“I’msorry,”Ibreathe,chastened.
“Ifyouneedanything,letmeknow.I’llbehere.AndAnastasia?”
“What?”
“UseyourBlackberry,”headdstersely.
“Yes,Christian.”
Hedoesn’thangupasIexpecthimtobuttakesadeepbreath.
“Imeanit.Ifyouneedme,I’mhere.”Hiswordsaremuchsofter,conciliatory.
Oh,he’ssomercurial…hismoodswingsarelikeametronomesetatpresto.
“Okay,”Imurmur.“I’dbettergo.Ihavetomoveoffices.”
“Ifyouneedme.Imeanit,”hemurmurs.
“Iknow,thankyou,Christian.Iloveyou.”
Isensehisgrinattheotherendofthephone.I’vewonhimback.
“Iloveyou,too,baby.”Oh,willIevertireofhimsayingthosewordstome?
“I’lltalktoyoulater.”
“Laters,baby.”
IhangupandglanceatJack’soffice.Myoffice.Holycow—AnastasiaSteele,
ActingCommissioningEditor.Whowouldhavethought?Ishouldaskfor
moremoney.
WhatwouldJackthinkifheknew?Ishudderatthethoughtandwonderidly
howhe’sspenthismorning,notinNewYorkasheexpected.Istrollintohis
—myoffice—sitdownatthedesk,andstartreadingthejobdescription.
Attwelvethirty,Elizabethbuzzesme.
“Ana,weneedyouinameetingatoneo’clockintheboardroom.JerryRoach
andKayBestiewillbethere—youknow,thecompanypresidentandvice
president?Allthecommissioningeditorswillbeattending.”
Shit!
“DoIneedtoprepareanything?”
“No,thisisjustaninformalgatheringwedoonceamonth.Lunchwillbe
provided.”
“I’llbethere.”Ihangup.
Holyshit!IcheckthroughthecurrentrosterofJack’sauthors.Yes,I’vepretty
muchgotthosenailed.Ihavethefivemanuscriptshe’schampioning,plus
twomore,whichshouldreallybeconsideredforpublication.Itakeadeep
breath—Icannotbelieveit’slunchtimealready.Thedayhasflownby,and
I’mlovingit.Therehasbeensomuchtoabsorbthismorning.Apingfrom
mycalendarannouncesanappointment.
Ohno—Mia!InalltheexcitementIhaveforgottenaboutourlunch.Ifishout
myBlackberryandtryfranticallytofindherphonenumber.
Myphonebuzzes.
“It’shim,inreception.”Claire’svoiceishushed.
“Who?”Foramoment,IthinkitmightbeChristian.
“Theblondgod.”
“Ethan?”
Oh,whatdoeshewant?Iimmediatelyfeelguiltyfornothavingcalledhim.
Ethan,dressedinacheckedblueshirt,whiteT-shirt,andjeans,beamsatme
whenIappear.
“Wow!Youlookhot,Steele,”hesays,noddingappreciatively.Hegivesmea
quickhug.“Iseverythingokay?”Iask.
Hefrowns.“Everything’sfine,Ana.Ijustwantedtoseeyou.I’venotheard
fromyouinawhile,andIwantedtocheckhowMr.Mogulwastreatingyou.”
Iflushandcan’thelpmysmile.
“Okay!”Ethanexclaims,holdinguphishands.“Icantellbythesecretsmile.
Idon’twanttoknowanymore.Icamebyontheoffchanceyoucoulddo
lunch.I’menrollingatSeattleforpsychcoursesinSeptember.Formy
master’s.”
“OhEthan.Somuchhashappened.Ihaveatontotellyou,butrightnow,I
can’t.Ihaveameeting.”Anideahitsmehard.“AndIwonderifyoucando
meareally,really,reallybigfavour?”Iclaspmyhandstogetherin
supplication.
“Sure,”hesays,bemusedbymypleading.
“I’msupposedtobehavinglunchwithChristianandElliot’ssister—butI
can’tgetholdofher,andthismeeting’sjustbeensprungonme.Pleasewill
youtakeherforlunch?
Please?”
“Aw,Ana!Idon’twanttobabysitsomebrat.”
“Please,Ethan.”Igivehimthebiggest-bluest-longest-eye-lashedlookthatI
canmanage.HerollshiseyesandIknowI’vegothim.
“You’llcookmesomething?”hemutters.
“Sure,whatever,whenever.”
“Sowhereisshe?”
“She’sdueherenow.”Andasifoncue,Ihearhervoice.
“Ana!”shecallsfromthefrontdoor.
Webothturn,andtheresheis—allcurvaceousandtallwithhersleekblack
bob—
wearingashortmint-greenmini-dressandmatchinghigh-heeledpumpswith
strapsaroundherslimankles.Shelooksstunning.
“Thebrat?”hewhispers,gapingather.
“Yes.Thebratthatneedsbabysitting,”Iwhisperback.“Hi,Mia.”Igivehera
quickhugasshestaresratherblatantlyatEthan.
“Mia—thisisEthan,Kate’sbrother.”
Henods,hiseyebrowsraisedinsurprise.Miablinksseveraltimesasshe
giveshimherhand.
“Delightedtomeetyou,”EthanmurmurssmoothlyandMiablinksagain—
silentforonce.Sheblushes.
Holycow.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenherblush.
“Ican’tmakelunch,”Isaylamely.“Ethanhasagreedtotakeyou,ifthat’s
okay?Canwehavearaincheck?”
“Sure,”shesaysquietly.Miaquiet,thisisnovel.
“Yeah,I’lltakeitfromhere.Laters,Ana,”Ethansays,offeringMiahisarm.
Sheacceptsitwithashysmile.
“Bye,Ana.”Miaturnstomeandmouths,“Oh.My.God!”givingmean
exaggeratedwink.Jeez…shelikeshim!Iwaveatthemastheyleavethe
building.IwonderwhatChristian’sattitudeisabouthissisterdating?The
thoughtmakesmeuneasy.She’smyage,sohecan’tobject,canhe?
ThisisChristianwe’redealingwith.Mysnarkysubconsciousisback,
hatchet-mouthed,cardiganandpurseinthecrookofherarm.Ishakeoffthe
image.MiaisagrownwomanandChristiancanbereasonable,can’the?I
dismissthethoughtandheadbacktoJack’s…
er…myofficetoprepforthemeeting.
It’sthreethirtywhenIreturn.Themeetingwentwell.Ihaveevensecured
approvaltoprogressthetwomanuscriptsIwaschampioning.It’saheady
feeling.
Onmydeskisanenormouswickerbasketcrammedwithstunningwhiteand
palepinkroses.Wow—thefragrancealoneisheavenly.IsmileasIpickup
thecard.Iknowwhosentthem.
Congratulations,MissSteele
Andallonyourown!
Nohelpfromyouroverfriendly,neighbourhood,megalomaniacCEO
Love
Christian
IpickupmyBlackberrytoe-mailhim.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Megalomaniac…
Date:June16,201115:43
To:ChristianGrey
…ismyfavouritetypeofmaniac.Thankyouforthebeautifulflowers.
They’vearrivedinahugewickerbasketthatmakesmethinkofpicnicsand
blankets.
X
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:FreshAir
Date:June16,201115:55
To:AnastasiaSteele
Maniac,eh?Dr.Flynnmayhavesomethingtosayaboutthat.
Youwanttogoonapicnic?
Wecouldhavefuninthegreatoutdoors,Anastasia…
Howisyourdaygoing,baby?
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Ohmy.Iflushreadinghisresponse.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Hectic
Date:June16,201116:00
To:ChristianGrey
Thedayhasflownby.Ihavehardlyhadamomenttomyselftothinkabout
anythingotherthanwork.IthinkIcandothis!I’lltellyoumorewhenI’m
home.
Outdoorssounds…interesting.
Loveyou.
Ax
PS:Don’tworryaboutDr.Flynn.
Myphonebuzzes.It’sClairefromreception,desperatetoknowwhosentthe
flowersandwhathappenedtoJack.Holedupintheofficeallday,Ihave
missedthegossip.Itellherquicklythattheflowersarefrommyboyfriend
andthatIknowverylittleaboutJack’sdeparture.MyBlackberrybuzzesand
Ihaveanothere-mailfromChristian.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:I’lltry…
Date:June16,201116:09
To:AnastasiaSteele
…nottoworry.
Laters,baby.x
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Atfivethirty,Ipackupmydesk.Ican’tbelievehowquicklythedayhas
gone.IhavetogetbacktoEscalaandpreparetomeetDr.Flynn.Ihaven’t
evenhadtimetothinkofquestions.
Perhapstodaywecanhaveaninitialmeeting,andmaybeChristianwilllet
meseehimagain.IshrugoffthethoughtasIdashoutoftheoffice,wavinga
quickgood-byetoClaire.
I’vealsogotChristian’sbirthdaytothinkabout.IknowwhatI’mgoingto
givehim.
I’dlikehimtohaveittonightbeforewemeetFlynn,buthow?Besidethe
parkinglotisasmallstoresellingtouristytrinkets.InspirationhitsmeandI
duckinside.
ChristianisonhisBlackberry,standingandstaringouttheglasswallasI
enterthegreatroomhalfanhourlater.Turning,hebeamsatmeandwrapsup
hiscall.
“Ros,that’sgreat.TellBarneyandwe’llgofromthere…Good-bye.”
HestridesovertomeasIstandshylyintheentryway.He’schangednowinto
awhiteT-shirtandjeans,allbadboyandsmouldering.Whoa.
“Goodevening,MissSteele,”hemurmursandhebendstokissme.
“Congratulationsonyourpromotion.”Hewrapshisarmsaroundme.He
smellsdelicious.
“You’veshowered.”
“I’vejusthadawork-outwithClaude.”
“Oh.”
“Managedtoknockhimonhisasstwice.”Christianbeams,boyishand
pleasedwithhimself.Hisgrinisinfectious.
“Thatdoesn’thappenoften?”
“No.Verysatisfyingwhenitdoes.Hungry?”
Ishakemyhead.
“What?”Hefrownsatme.
“I’mnervous.AboutDr.Flynn.”
“Me,too.Howwasyourday?”Hereleasesme,andIhimgiveabrief
summary.Helistensattentively.
“Oh—there’sonemorethingIshouldtellyou,”Iadd.“Iwassupposedto
havelunchwithMia.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows,surprised.“Younevermentionedthat.”
“Iknow,Iforgot.Icouldn’tmakeitbecauseofthemeeting,andEthantook
herouttolunchinstead.”
Hisfacedarkens.“Isee.Stopbitingyourlip.”
“I’mgoingtofreshenup,”Isaychangingthesubjectandturningtoleave
beforehecanreactanyfurther.
Dr.Flynn’sofficeisashortdrivefromChristian’sapartment.Veryhandy,I
muse,foremergencysessions.
“Iusuallyrunherefromhome,”ChristiansaysasheparksmySaab.“Thisis
agreatcar.”Hesmilesatme.
“Ithinkso,too.”Ismilebackathim.“Christian…I—”Igazeanxiouslyat
him.
“Whatisit,Ana?”
“Here.”Ipullthesmallblackgiftboxfrommypurse.“Thisisforyoufor
yourbirthday.Iwantedtogiveittoyounow—butonlyifyoupromisenotto
openituntilSaturday,okay?”
Heblinksatmeinsurpriseandswallows.“Okay,”hemurmurscautiously.
Takingadeepbreath,Ihandittohim,ignoringhisbemusedexpression.He
shakesthebox,anditproducesaverysatisfactoryrattle.Hefrowns.Iknow
he’sdesperatetoseewhatitcontains.Thenhegrins,hiseyesalightwith
youthful,carefreeexcitement.Ohboy…helookshisage—andsobeautiful.
“Youcan’topenituntilSaturday,”Iwarnhim.
“Igetit,”hesays.“Whyareyougivingthistomenow?”Hepopsthebox
intotheinsidepocketofhisbluepinstripedjacket,closetohisheart.
Howapt,Imuse.Ismirkathim.
“BecauseIcan,Mr.Grey.”
Hismouthtwistswithwryamusement.
“Why,MissSteele,youstolemyline.”
WeareusheredintoDr.Flynn’spalatialofficebyabriskandfriendly
receptionist.ShegreetsChristianwarmly,alittletoowarmlyformytaste—
jeez,she’soldenoughtobehismother—andheknowshername.
Theroomisunderstated:palegreenwithtwodarkgreencouchesfacingtwo
leatherwingedchairs,andithastheatmosphereofagentlemen’sclub.Dr.
Flynnisseatedatadeskatthefarendoftheroom.
Asweenter,hestandsandwalksovertojoinusintheseatingarea.Hewears
blackpantsandapale-blueopen-neckedshirt—notie.Hisbrightblueeyes
seemtomissnothing.
“Christian.”Hesmilesamicably.
“John.”ChristianshakesJohn’shand.“YourememberAnastasia?”
“HowcouldIforget?Anastasia,welcome.”
“Ana,please,”Imumbleasheshakesmyhandfirmly.IdolovehisEnglish
accent.
“Ana,”hesayskindly,usheringustowardthecouches.
Christiangesturestooneofthemforme.Isit,tryingtolookrelaxed,resting
myhandonthecouchrest,andhesprawlsontheothercouchbesidemeso
thatwe’reatrightanglestoeachother.Asmalltablewithasimplelampis
betweenus.Inotewithinterestaboxoftissuesbesidethelamp.
Thisisn’twhatIexpected.Ihadinmymind’seyeastarkwhiteroomwitha
blackleatherchaiselongue;myinnergoddessmighthavefeltmoreathome
then.
Lookingrelaxedandincontrol,Dr.Flynntakesaseatinoneofthewinged
chairsandpicksupaleathernotepad.Christiancrosseshislegs,hisankle
restingonhisknee,andstretchesonearmalongthebackofthecouch.
Reachingacrosswithhisotherhand,hefindsmyhandonthecouchrestand
givesitareassuringsqueeze.
“Christianhasrequestedthatyouaccompanyhimtooneofoursessions,”Dr.
Flynnbeginsgently.“Justsoyouknow,wetreatthesesessionswithabsolute
confidentiality—”
IraisemyeyebrowatFlynn,haltinghimmid-speech.
“Oh—um…I’vesignedanNDA,”Imurmur,embarrassedthathe’sstopped.
BothFlynnandChristianstareatme,andChristianreleasesmyhand.
“Anon-disclosureagreement?”Dr.Flynn’sbrowfurrows,andheglances
quizzicallyatChristian.
Christianshrugs.
“YoustartallyourrelationshipswithwomenwithanNDA?”Dr.Flynnasks
him.
“Thecontractualones,Ido.”
Dr.Flynn’sliptwitches.“You’vehadothertypesofrelationshipswith
women?”heasks,andhelooksamused.
“No,”Christiananswersafterabeat,andhelooksamused,too.
“AsIthought.”Dr.Flynnturnshisattentionbacktome.“Well,Iguesswe
don’thavetoworryaboutconfidentiality,butmayIsuggestthatthetwoof
youdiscussthisatsomepoint?AsIunderstand,you’renolongerentering
intothatkindofcontractualrelationship.”
“Differentkindofcontract,hopefully,”saysChristiansoftly,glancingatme.I
flushandDr.Flynnnarrowshiseyes.
“Ana.You’llhavetoforgiveme,butIprobablyknowalotmoreaboutyou
thanyouthink.Christianhasbeenveryforthcoming.”
IglancenervouslyatChristian.Whathashesaid?
“AnNDA?”hecontinues.“Thatmusthaveshockedyou.”
Iblinkathim.“Oh,Ithinktheshockofthathaspaledintoinsignificance,
givenChristian’smostrecentrevelations,”Ianswer,myvoicesoftand
hesitant.Isoundsonervous.
“I’msure.”Dr.Flynnsmileskindlyatme.“So,Christian,whatwouldyou
liketodiscuss?”
Christianshrugslikeasurlyteen.“Anastasiawantedtoseeyou.Perhapsyou
shouldaskher.”
Dr.Flynn’sfaceregistershissurpriseoncemore,andhegazesshrewdlyat
me.
Holyshit.Thisismortifying.Igazedownatmyfingers.
“WouldyoubemorecomfortableifChristianleftusforawhile?”
MyeyesdarttoChristianandhe’sgazingatmeexpectantly.
“Yes,”Iwhisper.
Christianfrownsandopenshismouthbutclosesitagainquicklyandstandsin
oneswiftgracefulmovement.
“I’llbeinthewaitingroom,”hesays,hismouthaflat,grumpyline.
Ohno.
“Thankyou,Christian,”Dr.Flynnsaysimpassively.
Christiangivesmeonelong,searchinglookthenstalksoutoftheroom—but
hedoesn’tslamthedoor.Phew.Iimmediatelyrelax.
“Heintimidatesyou?”
“Yes.Butnotasmuchasheusedto.”Ifeeldisloyalbutit’sthetruth.
“Thatdoesn’tsurpriseme,Ana.WhatcanIhelpyouwith?”
Istaredownatmyknottedfingers.WhatcanIask?
“Dr.Flynn,I’veneverbeeninarelationshipbefore,andChristianis…well,
he’sChristian.Andoverthelastweekorso,agreatdealhashappened.I
haven’thadachancetothinkthingsthrough.”
“Whatdoyouneedtothinkthrough?”
Iglanceupathim,andhisheadiscockedtoonesideashegazesatmewith
compassion,Ithink.
“Well…Christiantellsmethathe’shappytogiveup…er—”Istumbleand
pause.
ThisissomuchmoredifficulttodiscussthanI’dimagined.
Dr.Flynnsighs.“Ana,intheverylimitedtimethatyou’veknownhim,
you’vemademoreprogresswithmypatientthanIhaveinthelasttwoyears.
Youhavehadaprofoundeffectonhim.Youmustseethat.”
“He’shadaprofoundeffectonme,too.Ijustdon’tknowifI’menough.To
fulfilhisneeds,”Iwhisper.
“Isthatwhatyouneedfromme?Reassurance?”
Inod.
“Needschange,”hesayssimply.“Christianhasfoundhimselfinasituation
wherehismethodsofcopingarenolongereffective.Verysimply,you’ve
forcedhimtoconfrontsomeofhisdemonsandrethink.”
Iblinkathim.ThisechoeswhatChristianhastoldme.
“Yes,hisdemons,”Imurmur.
“Wedon’tdwellonthem—they’reinthepast.Christianknowswhathis
demonsare,asdoI—andnowI’msureyoudo,too.I’mmuchmore
concernedwiththefutureandgettingChristiantoaplacewherehewantsto
be.”
Ifrownandheraisesaneyebrow.
“ThetechnicaltermisSFBT—sorry.”Hesmiles.“ThatstandsforSolution-
FocusedBriefTherapy.Essentially,it’sgoaloriented.Weconcentrateon
whereChristianwantstobeandhowtogethimthere.It’sadialectical
approach.There’snopointinbreast-beatingaboutthepast—allthat’sbeen
pickedoverbyeveryphysician,psychologist,andpsychiatristChristian’s
everseen.Weknowwhyhe’sthewayheis,butit’sthefuturethat’s
important.WhereChristianenvisageshimself,wherehewantstobe.Ittook
youwalkingoutonhimtomakehimtakethisformoftherapyseriously.He
realizesthathisgoalisalovingrelationshipwithyou.It’sthatsimple,and
that’swhatwe’reworkingonnow.Ofcoursethereareobstacles—his
haphephobiaforone.”
Ohjeez…hiswhat?Igasp.
“I’msorry.Imeanhisfearofbeingtouched,”Dr.Flynnsays,shakinghis
headasifscoldinghimself.“WhichI’msureyou’reawareof.”
Iflushandnod.Ohthat!
“Hehasamorbidself-abhorrence.I’msurethatcomesasnosurprisetoyou.
Andofcoursethere’stheparasomnia…um—nightterrors,sorry,tothe
layperson.”
Iblinkathim,tryingtoabsorballtheselongwords.Iknowaboutallofthis.
ButFlynnhasn’tmentionedmycentralconcern.
“Buthe’sasadist.Surely,assuch,hehasneedswhichIcan’tfulfil.”
Dr.Flynnactuallyrollshiseyes,andhismouthpressesintoahardline.
“That’snolongerrecognizedasapsychiatricterm.Idon’tknowhowmany
timesIhavetoldhimthat.
It’snotevenclassifiedasaparaphiliaanymore,notsincethenineties.”
Dr.Flynnhaslostmeagain.Iblinkathim.Hesmileskindlyatme.
“Thisisapetpeeveofmine.”Heshakeshishead.“Christianjustthinksthe
worstofanygivensituation.It’spartofhisself-abhorrence.Ofcourse,there’s
suchathingassexualsadism,butit’snotadisease;it’salifestylechoice.And
ifit’spracticedinasafe,sanerelationshipbetweenconsentingadults,thenit’s
anonissue.MyunderstandingisthatChristianhasconductedallofhisBDSM
relationshipsinthismanner.You’rethefirstloverwhohasn’tconsented,so
he’snotwillingtodoit.”
Lover!
“Butsurelyit’snotthatsimple.”
“Whynot?”Dr.Flynnshrugsgood-naturedly.
“Well…thereasonshedoesit.”
“Ana,that’sthepoint.Intermsofsolution-focusedtherapy,itisthatsimple.
Christianwantstobewithyou.Inordertodothat,heneedstoforegothe
moreextremeaspectsofthatkindofrelationship.Afterall,whatyou’re
askingforisnotunreasonable…isit?”
Iflush.No,it’snotunreasonable,isit?
“Idon’tthinkso.ButIworrythathedoes.”
“Christianrecognizesthatandhasactedaccordingly.He’snotinsane.”Dr.
Flynnsighs.
“Inanutshell,he’snotasadist,Ana.He’sanangry,frightened,brilliant
youngman,whowasdealtashithandofcardswhenhewasborn.Wecanall
beatourbreastsaboutit,andanalysethewho,thehowandthewhytodeath
—orChristiancanmoveonanddecidehowhewantstolive.He’dfound
somethingthatworkedforhimforafewyears,moreorless,butsincehemet
you,itnolongerworks.Andasaconsequence,he’schanginghismodus
operandi.YouandIhavetorespecthischoiceandsupporthiminit.”
Igapeathim.“That’smyreassurance?”
“Asgoodasitgets,Ana.Therearenoguaranteesinthislife.”Hesmiles.
“Andthatismyprofessionalopinion.”
Ismile,too,weakly.Doctorjokes…jeez.
“Buthethinksofhimselfasarecoveringalcoholic.”
“Christianwillalwaysthinktheworstofhimself.AsIsaid,it’spartofhis
self-abhorrence.It’sinhismakeup,nomatterwhat.Naturallyhe’sanxious
aboutmakingthischangeinhislife.He’spotentiallyexposinghimselftoa
wholeworldofemotionalpain,which,incidentally,hehadatasteofwhen
youlefthim.Naturallyhe’sapprehensive.”Dr.Flynnpauses.“Idon’tmeanto
stresshowimportantaroleyouhaveinhisDamasceneconversion—hisroad
toDamascus.Butyouhave.Christianwouldnotbeinthisplaceifhehadnot
metyou.PersonallyIdon’tthinkthatanalcoholicisaverygoodanalogy,but
ifitworksforhimfornow,thenIthinkweshouldgivehimthebenefitofthe
doubt.”
GiveChristianthebenefitofthedoubt.Ifrownatthethought.
“Emotionally,Christianisanadolescent,Ana.Hebypassedthatphaseinhis
lifetotally.He’schannelledallhisenergiesintosucceedinginthebusiness
world,andhehasbeyondallexpectations.Hisemotionalworldhastoplay
catch-up.”
“SohowdoIhelp?”
Dr.Flynnlaughs.“Justkeepdoingwhatyou’redoing,”hegrinsatme.
“Christianisheadoverheels.It’sadelighttosee.”
Iflush,andmyinnergoddessishuggingherselfwithglee,butsomething
bothersme.
“CanIaskyouonemorething?”
“Ofcourse.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Partofmethinksthatifhewasn’tthisbrokenhe
wouldn’t…
wantme.”
Dr.Flynn’seyebrowsshootupinsurprise.“That’saverynegativethingto
sayaboutyourself,Ana.Andfranklyitsaysmoreaboutyouthanitdoes
aboutChristian.It’snotquiteuptherewithhisself-loathing,butI’msurprised
byit.”
“Well,lookathim…andthenlookatme.”
Dr.Flynnfrowns.“Ihave.Iseeanattractiveyoungman,andIseean
attractiveyoungwoman.Ana,whydon’tyouthinkofyourselfasattractive?”
Ohno…Idon’twantthistobeaboutme.Istaredownatmyfingers.There’s
asharpknockonthedoorthatmakesmejump.Christiancomesbackintothe
room,glaringatbothofus.IflushandglancequicklyatFlynn,whois
smilingbenignlyatChristian.
“Welcomeback,Christian,”hesays.
“Ithinktimeisup,John.”
“Nearly,Christian.Joinus.”
Christiansitsdown,besidemethistime,andplaceshishandpossessivelyon
myknee.
HisactiondoesnotgounnoticedbyDr.Flynn.
“Didyouhaveanyotherquestions,Ana?”Dr.Flynnasksandhisconcernis
obvious.
Shit…Ishouldnothaveaskedthatquestion.Ishakemyhead.
“Christian?”
“Nottoday,John.”
Flynnnods.
“Itmaybebeneficialifyoubothcomeagain.I’msureAnawillhavemore
questions.”
Christiannods,reluctantly.
Iflush.Shit…hewantstodelve.Christianclaspsmyhandandregardsme
intently.
“Okay?”heaskssoftly.
Ismileathim,nodding.Yes,we’regoingforthebenefitofthedoubt,
courtesyofthegooddoctorfromEngland.
ChristiansqueezesmyhandandturnstoFlynn.
“Howisshe?”heaskssoftly.
Me?
“She’llgetthere,”hesaysreassuringly.
“Good.Keepmeupdatedofherprogress.”
“Iwill.”
Holyfuck.They’retalkingaboutLeila.
“Shallwegoandcelebrateyourpromotion?”Christianasksmepointedly.
InodshylyasChristianstands.
Wesayourquickgood-byestoDr.Flynn,andChristianushersmeoutwith
unseemlyhaste.
Inthestreet,heturnstome.“Howwasthat?”hisvoiceisanxious.
“Itwasgood.”
Heregardsmesuspiciously.Icockmyheadtooneside.
“Mr.Grey,pleasedon’tlookatmethatway.Underdoctor’sordersIamgoing
togiveyouthebenefitofthedoubt.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“You’llsee.”
Hismouthtwistsandhiseyesnarrow.“Getinthecar,”heorderswhile
openingthepassengerdooroftheSaab.
Oh,changeofdirection.MyBlackberrybuzzes.Ihaulitoutofmypurse.
Shit,José!
“Hi!”
“Ana,hi…”
IstareatFifty,whoiseyeingmesuspiciously.“José,”Imouthathim.He
staresimpassivelyatme,buthiseyesharden.DoeshethinkIdon’tnotice?I
turnmyattentionbacktoJosé.“SorryIhaven’tcalledyou.Isitabout
tomorrow?”IaskJosé,butstareupatChristian.
“Yeah,listen—IspokewithsomeguyatGrey’splace,soIknowwhereI’m
deliveringthephotos,andIshouldgettherebetweenfiveandsix…after
that,I’mfree.”
Oh.
“Well,I’mactuallystayingwithChristianatthemoment,andifyouwantto,
hesaysyoucanstayathisplace.”
Christianpresseshismouthinahardline.Hmm—somehostheis.
Joséissilentforamoment,absorbingthisnews.Icringe.Ihaven’thada
chancetotalktohimaboutChristian.
“Okay,”hesayseventually.“ThisthingwithGrey,it’sserious?”
Iturnawayfromthecarandpacetotheothersideofthesidewalk.
“Yes.”
“Howserious?”
Irollmyeyesandpause.WhydoesChristianhavetobelistening?
“Serious.”
“Ishewithyounow?Thatwhyyou’respeakinginmonosyllables?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.Soareyouallowedouttomorrow?”
“OfcourseIam.”Ihope.Iautomaticallycrossmyfingers.
“SowhereshallImeetyou?”
“Youcouldcollectmefromwork,”Ioffer.
“Okay.”
“I’lltextyoutheaddress.”
“Whattime?”
“Saysix?”
“Sure.I’llseeyouthen,Ana.Lookingforwardtoit.Imissyou.”
Igrin.“Cool.I’llseeyouthen.”Iswitchthephoneoffandturn.
Christianisleaningagainstthecarwatchingmecarefully,hisexpression
impossibletoread.
“How’syourfriend?”heaskscoolly.
“He’swell.He’llpickmeupfromwork,andIthinkwe’llgoforadrink.
Wouldyouliketojoinus?”
Christianhesitates,hisgreyeyescool.“Youdon’tthinkhe’lltryanything?”
“No!”Mytoneisexasperated—butIrefrainfromrollingmyeyes.
“Okay,”Christianholdshishandsupindefeat.“Youhangoutwithyour
friend,andI’llseeyoulaterintheevening.”
Iwasexpectingafight,andhiseasyacquiescencethrowsmeoffbalance.
“See?Icanbereasonable.”Hesmirks.
Mymouthtwists.We’llseeaboutthat.
“CanIdrive?”
Christianblinksatme,surprisedbymyrequest.
“I’dratheryoudidn’t.”
“Why,exactly?”
“BecauseIdon’tliketobedriven.”
“Youmanagedthismorning,andyouseemtotolerateTaylordrivingyou.”
“ItrustTaylor’sdrivingimplicitly.”
“Andnotmine?”Iputmyhandsonmyhips.“Honestly—yourcontrol
freakeryknowsnobounds.I’vebeendrivingsinceIwasfifteen.”
Heshrugsinresponse,asifthisisofnoconsequencewhatsoever.Oh—he’s
soexasperating!Benefitofthedoubt?Well,screwthat.
“Isthismycar?”Idemand.
Hefrownsatme.“Ofcourseit’syourcar.”
“Thengivemethekeys,please.I’vedrivenittwice,andonlytoandfrom
work.Nowyou’rehavingallthefun.”Iaminfull-onpoutmode.Christian’s
lipstwitchwitharepressedsmile.
“Butyoudon’tknowwherewe’regoing.”
“I’msureyoucanenlightenme,Mr.Grey.You’vedoneagreatjobofitso
far.”
Hegazesatmestunnedthensmiles,hisnewshysmilethattotallydisarmsme
andtakesmybreathaway.
“Greatjob,eh?”hemurmurs.
Iblush.“Mostly,yes.”
“Well,inthatcase.”Hehandsmethekeys,walksroundtothedriver’sdoor,
andopensitforme.
“Lefthere,”Christianorders,andweheadnorthtowardtheI-5.“Hell—
gently,Ana.”Hegrabsholdofthedashboard.
Oh,forheaven’ssake.Irollmyeyes,butdon’tturntolookathim.Van
Morrisoncroonsinthebackgroundoverthecarsoundsystem.
“Slowdown!”
“Iamslowingdown!”
Christiansighs.“WhatdidFlynnsay?”Ihearhisanxietyleachingintohis
voice.
“Itoldyou.HesaysIshouldgiveyouthebenefitofthedoubt.”Damn—
maybeIshouldhaveletChristiandrive.ThenIcouldwatchhim.Infact…I
signaltopullover.
“Whatareyoudoing?”hesnaps,alarmed.
“Lettingyoudrive.”
“Why?”
“SoIcanlookatyou.”
Helaughs.“No,no—youwantedtodrive.So,youdrive,andI’lllookat
you.”
Iscowlathim.“Keepyoureyesontheroad!”heshouts.
Mybloodboils.Right!Ipullovertothecurbjustbeforeastoplightandstorm
outofthecar,slammingthedoor,andstandonthesidewalk,armsfolded,I
glareathim.Heclimbsoutofthecar.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasksangrily,staringdownatme.
“No.Whatareyoudoing?”
“Youcan’tparkhere.”
“Iknowthat.”
“Sowhyhaveyou?”
“BecauseI’vehaditwithyoubarkingorders.Eitheryoudriveoryoushutup
aboutmydriving!”
“Anastasia,getbackinthecarbeforewegetaticket.”
“No.”
Heblinksatme,atatotalloss,thenrunshishandsthroughhishair,andhis
angerbecomesbewilderment.Helookssocomicalallofasudden,andIcan’t
helpbutsmileathim.Hefrowns.
“What?”hesnapsoncemore.
“You.”
“Oh,Anastasia!Youarethemostfrustratingfemaleontheplanet.”Hethrows
hishandsintheair.“Fine—I’lldrive.”Igrabtheedgesofhisjacketandpull
himtome.
“No—youarethemostfrustratingmanontheplanet,Mr.Grey.”
Hegazesdownatme,hiseyesdarkandintense,hesnakeshisarmsaround
mywaistandembracesme,holdingmeclose.
“Maybewe’remeantforeachother,then,”hesayssoftlyandinhalesdeeply,
hisnoseinmyhair.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhimandclosemyeyes.Forthe
firsttimesincethismorning,Ifeelmyselfrelax.
“Oh…Ana,Ana,Ana,”hebreathes,hislipspressedagainstmyhair.I
tightenmyarmsaroundhim,andwestand,immobile,enjoyingamomentof
unexpectedtranquillity,onthestreet.Releasingme,heopensthepassenger
door.Iclimbinandsitquietly,watchinghimwalkaroundthecar.
Restartingthecar,Christianpullsoutintothetraffic,absentmindedly
hummingalongtoVanMorrison.
Whoa.I’veneverheardhimsing,notevenintheshower,ever.Ifrown.He
hasalovelyvoice—ofcourse.Hmm…hasheheardmesing?
Hewouldn’tbeaskingyoutomarryhimifhehad!Mysubconscioushasher
armscrossedandiswearingBurberrycheck…jeez.Thesongfinishesand
Christiansmirks.
“Youknow,ifwehadgottenaticket,thetitleofthiscarisinyourname.”
“Well,goodthingI’vebeenpromoted—Icanaffordthefine,”Isaysmugly,
staringathislovelyprofile.Hislipstwitch.AnotherVanMorrisonsongstarts
playingashetakestheon-ramptoI-5,headingnorth.
“Wherearewegoing?”
“It’sasurprise.WhatelsedidFlynnsay?”
Isigh.“HetalkedaboutFFFSTBorsomething.”
“SFBT.Thelatesttherapyoption,”hemutters.
“You’vetriedothers?”
Christiansnorts.“Baby,I’vebeensubjectedtothemall.Cognitivism,Freud,
functionalism,Gestalt,behaviourism…Younameit,overtheyearsI’vedone
it,”hesaysandhistonebetrayshisbitterness.Therancourinhisvoiceis
distressing.
“Doyouthinkthislatestapproachwillhelp?”
“WhatdidFlynnsay?”
“Hesaidnottodwellonyourpast.Focusonthefuture—onwhereyouwant
tobe.”
Christiannodsbutshrugsatthesametime,hisexpressioncautious.
“Whatelse?”hepersists.
“Hetalkedaboutyourfearofbeingtouched,althoughhecalleditsomething
else.Andaboutyournightmaresandyourself-abhorrence.”Iglanceathim,
andintheeveninglight,he’spensive,chewingonhisthumbnailashedrives.
Heglancesquicklyatme.
“Eyesontheroad,Mr.Grey,”Iadmonish,myeyebrowcockedathim.
Helooksamused,andslightlyexasperated.“Youweretalkingforever,
Anastasia.Whatelsedidhesay?”
Iswallow.“Hedoesn’tthinkyou’reasadist,”Iwhisper.
“Really?”Christiansaysquietlyandfrowns.Theatmosphereinthecartakes
anose-dive.“Hesaysthatterm’snotrecognizedinpsychiatry.Notsincethe
nineties,”Imutter,quicklytryingtorescuethemoodbetweenus.
Christian’sfacedarkens,andheexhalesslowly.
“FlynnandIhavedifferingopinionsonthis,”hesaysquietly.
“Hesaidyoualwaysthinktheworstofyourself.Iknowthat’strue,”I
murmur.“Healsomentionedsexualsadism—buthesaidthatwasalifestyle
choice,notapsychiatriccondition.Maybethat’swhatyou’rethinkingabout.”
Hisgreyeyesflashtowardmeagain,andhismouthsetsinagrimline.
“So—onetalkwiththegooddoctorandyou’reanexpert,”hesaysacidlyand
turnshiseyesfront.
Ohdear…Isigh.
“Look—ifyoudon’twanttohearwhathesaid,don’taskme,”Imuttersoftly.
Idon’twanttoargue.Anywayhe’sright—whatthehelldoIknowaboutall
hisshit?
DoIevenwanttoknow?Icanlistthesalientpoints—hiscontrolfreakery,his
possessiveness,hisjealousy,hisoverprotectiveness—andIcompletely
understandwherehe’scomingfrom.Icanevenunderstandwhyhedoesn’t
liketobetouched—I’veseenthephysicalscars.Icanonlyimaginethe
mentalones,andI’veonlyglimpsedhisnightmaresonce.AndDr.Flynnsaid
—
“Iwanttoknowwhatyoudiscussed.”Christianinterruptsmythoughtsashe
headsoffI-5onexit172,headingwesttowardtheslowlysinkingsun.
“Hecalledmeyourlover.”
“Didhenow?”Histoneisconciliatory.“Well,he’snothingifnotfastidious
abouthisterms.Ithinkthat’sanaccuratedescription.Don’tyou?”
“Didyouthinkofyoursubsaslovers?”
Christian’sbrowcreasesoncemore,butthistimehe’sthinking.Heturnsthe
Saabsmoothlynorthonceagain.Wherearewegoing?
“No.Theyweresexualpartners,”hemurmurs,hisvoicecautiousagain.
“You’remyonlylover.AndIwantyoutobemore.”
Oh…there’sthatmagicalwordagain,brimmingwithpossibility.Itmakes
mesmile,andinsideIhugmyself,myinnergoddessradiatingjoy.
“Iknow,”Iwhisper,tryinghardtohidemyexcitement.“Ijustneedsome
time,Christian.Togetmyheadaroundtheselastfewdays.”Heglancesatme
oddly,perplexed,hisheadinclinedtooneside.
Afterabeat,thestoplightwe’restationedatturnsgreen.Henodsandturns
themusicup,andourdiscussionisover.
VanMorrisonisstillsinging—moreoptimisticallynow—aboutitbeinga
marvellousnightformoondancing.Igazeoutthewindowsatthepinesand
sprucedustedgoldbythefadinglightofthesun,theirlongshadows
stretchingacrosstheroad.Christianhasturnedintoamoreresidentialstreet,
andwe’reheadingwesttowardtheSound.
“Wherearewegoing?”Iaskagainasweturnintoaroad.Icatcharoadsign
—9thAvenow.Iambaffled.
“Surprise,”hesaysandsmilesmysteriously.
Christiancontinuestodrivepastsingle-story,well-kept,clapboardhouses
wherekidsplayeitherclusteredaroundtheirbasketballhoopsintheiryards
orcyclingandrunningaroundinthestreet.Italllooksaffluentand
wholesomewiththehousesnestlingamongthetrees.
Perhapswe’regoingtovisitsomeone?Who?
Afewminuteslater,Christianturnssharplyleft,andwe’reconfrontedbytwo
ornatewhitemetalgatessetinasix-foot-high,sandstonewall.Christian
pressesabuttononhisdoorhandleandtheelectricwindowhumsquietly
downintothedoorframe.Hepunchesanumberintothekeypadandthegates
swingopeninwelcome.
Heglancesatme,andhisexpressionhaschanged.Helooksuncertain,
nervouseven.
“Whatisit?”Iask,andIcan’tmasktheconcerninmyvoice.
“Anidea,”hesaysquietlyandeasestheSaabthroughthegates.
Weheadupatree-linedlanejustwideenoughfortwocars.Ononeside,the
treesringadenselywoodedarea,andontheotherthere’savastareaof
grasslandwhereaonce-cultivatedfieldhasbeenleftfallow.Grassesand
wildflowershavereclaimedit,creatingaruralidyll—ameadow,wherethe
lateeveningbreezesoftlyripplesthroughthegrassandtheeveningsungilds
thewildflowers.It’slovely—utterlytranquil,andsuddenlyIimaginemyself
lyinginthegrassandgazingupataclearbluesummersky.Thethoughtis
tantalizingyetmakesmefeelhomesickforsomestrangereason.Howodd.
Thelanecurvesaroundandopensintoasweepingdrivewayinfrontofan
impressiveMediterranean-stylehouseofsoftpinksandstone.It’spalatial.All
thelightsareon,eachwindowbrightlyilluminatedinthedusk.There’sa
smart,blackBMWparkedinfrontofthefour-cargarage,butChristianpulls
upoutsidethegrandportico.
Hmm…Iwonderwholiveshere?Whyarewevisiting?
Christianglancesanxiouslyatmeasheswitchesoffthecarengine.
“Willyoukeepanopenmind?”heasks.
Ifrown.
“Christian,I’veneededanopenmindsincethedayImetyou.”
Hesmilesironicallyandnods.“Fairpointwellmade,MissSteele.Let’sgo.”
Thedarkwooddoorsopen,andawomanwithdarkbrownhair,asincere
smile,andasharplilacsuitstandswaiting.I’mgratefulIchangedintomy
newnavyshiftdresstoimpressDr.Flynn.Okay,I’mnotwearingkillerheels
likeher—butstill,I’mnotinjeans.
“Mr.Grey.”Shesmileswarmlyandtheyshakehands.
“MissKelly,”hesayspolitely.
Shesmilesatmeandholdsoutherhand,whichIshake.Herisn’t-he-
dreamily-gorgeous-wish-he-was-mineflushdoesnotgounnoticed.
“OlgaKelly,”sheannouncesbreezily.
“AnaSteele,”Imutterbackather.Whoisthiswoman?Shestandsaside,
welcomingusintothehouse.It’sashockwhenIstepin.Theplaceisempty
—completelyempty.Wefindourselvesinalargeentrancehall.Thewallsare
afadedprimroseyellowwithscuff-markswherepicturesmustoncehave
hung.Allthatremainsaretheold-fashionedcrystallightfixtures.Thefloors
aredullhardwood.Therearecloseddoorstoeithersideofus,butChristian
givesmenotimetoassimilatewhat’shappening.
“Come,”hesays,andtakingmyhand,heleadsmethroughthearchwayin
frontofusintoalargerinnervestibule.It’sdominatedbyacurved,sweeping
staircasewithanintricateironbalustradebutstillhedoesn’tstop.Hetakes
methroughtothemainlivingarea,whichisempty,saveforalargefaded
goldrug—thebiggestrugIhaveeverseen.Oh—andtherearefourcrystal
chandeliers.
ButChristian’sintentionisnowclearasweheadacrosstheroomandoutside
throughopenFrenchdoorstoalargestoneterrace.Belowusthere’shalfa
footballfieldofmanicuredlawn,butbeyondthatistheview.Wow.
Thepanoramic,uninterruptedvistaisbreath-taking—staggeringeven:
twilightovertheSound.Ohmy.
InthedistanceliesBainbridgeIsland,andfurtherstillonthiscrystalclear
evening,thesettingsunsinksslowly,glowingbloodandflameorange,
beyondOlympicNationalPark.Vermillionhuesbleedintothesky—opals,
aquamarines,ceruleans—meldingwiththedarkerpurplesofthescantwispy
cloudsandthelandbeyondtheSound.Itisnature’sbest,avisualsymphony
orchestratedintheskyandreflectedinthedeep,stillwatersoftheSound.I
amlosttotheview—staring,tryingtoabsorbsuchbeauty.
IrealizeI’mholdingmybreathinawe,andChristianisstillholdingmyhand.
AsIreluctantlyturnmyeyesawayfromtheview,he’sgazinganxiouslyat
me.
“Youbroughtmeheretoadmiretheview?”Iwhisper.Henods,his
expressionserious.
“It’sstaggering,Christian.Thankyou,”Imurmur,lettingmyeyesfeastonit
oncemore.Hereleasesmyhand.
“Howwouldyouliketolookatitfortherestofyourlife?”hebreathes.
What?Iwhipmyfacebacktohis,startledblueeyestopensivegrey.Ithink
mymouthdropsopen,andIgapeathimblankly.
“I’vealwayswantedtoliveonthecoast.IsailupanddowntheSound
covetingthesehouses.Thisplacehasn’tbeenonthemarketlong.Iwantto
buyit,demolishit,andbuildanewhouse—forus,”hewhispers,andhiseyes
glow,translucentwithhishopesanddreams.
Holycow.SomehowIremainupright.I’mreeling.Live,here!Inthisbeautiful
haven!
Fortherestofmylife…
“It’sjustanidea,”headds,cautiously.
Iglancebacktoassesstheinteriorofthehouse.Howmuchisitworth?It
mustbe,what—five,tenmilliondollars?Ihavenoidea.Holyshit.
“Whydoyouwanttodemolishit?”Iask,lookingbackathim.Hisfacefalls
slightly.
Ohno.
“I’dliketomakeamoresustainablehome,usingthelatestecological
techniques.Elliotcouldbuildit.”
Igazebackattheroomagain.MissOlgaKellyisonthefarside,hoveringby
theentrance.She’stherealtor,ofcourse.Inoticetheroomishugeanddouble
height,alittlelikethegreatroomatEscala.There’sabalconyabove—that
mustbethelandingonthesecondfloor.There’sahugefireplaceandawhole
lineofFrenchdoorsopeningontotheterrace.
Ithasanold-worldcharm.
“Canwelookaroundthehouse?”
Heblinksatme.“Sure,”heshrugs,puzzled.
MissKelly’sfacelightsuplikeChristmaswhenweheadbackin.She’s
delightedtotakeusonatourandgivesusthespiel.
Thehouseisenormous:twelvethousandsquarefeetonsixacresofland.As
wellasthismainlivingroom,there’stheeat-in—no,banquet-in—kitchen
withfamilyroomattached—Family!—amusicroom,alibrary,astudyand,
muchtomyamazement,anindoorpoolandexercisesuitewithsaunaand
steamroomattached.Downstairsinthebasementthere’sacinema—Jeez—
andgameroom.Hmm…whatsortofgamescouldweplayinhere?Miss
Kellypointsoutallsortsoffeatures,butbasicallythehouseisbeautifuland
wasobviouslyatonetimeahappyfamilyhome.It’salittleshabbynow,but
nothingthatsomeTLCcouldn’tcure.
AswefollowMissKellyupthemagnificentmainstairstothesecondfloor,I
canhardlycontainmyexcitement…thishousehaseverythingIcouldever
wishforinahome.
“Couldn’tyoumaketheexistinghousemoreecologicalandself-sustaining?”
Christianblinksatme,nonplussed.“I’dhavetoaskElliot.He’stheexpertin
allthis.”
MissKellyleadsusintothemastersuitewherefullheightwindowsopenonto
abalcony,andtheviewisstillspectacular.Icouldsitinbedandgazeoutall
day,watchingthesailingboatsandthechangingweather.
Therearefiveadditionalbedroomsonthisfloor.Jeez—kids.Ipushthe
thoughthastilytooneside.Ihavetoomuchtoprocessalready.MissKellyis
busilysuggestingtoChristianhowthegroundscouldaccommodateriding
stablesandapaddock.Horses!Terrifyingimagesofmyfewridinglessons
flashthroughmymind,butChristiandoesn’tappeartobelistening.
“Thepaddockwouldbewherethemeadowisatthemoment?”Iask.
“Yes,”MissKellysaysbrightly.
Tomethemeadowlookslikesomewheretolieinthelonggrassandhave
picnics,notforsomefour-leggedfiendofSatantoroam.
Backinthemainroom,MissKellydiscreetlydisappears,andChristianleads
meoutoncemoreontotheterrace.Thesunhassetandlightsfromthetowns
ontheOlympicpen-insulaaretwinklingonthefarsideoftheSound.
Christianpullsmeintohisarmsandtipsmychinupwithhisindexfinger,
staringintentlydownatme.
“Lottotakein?”heasks,hisexpressionunreadable.
Inod.
“IwantedtocheckyoulikeditbeforeIboughtit.”
“Theview?”
Henods.
“Ilovetheview,andIlikethehousethat’shere.”
“Youdo?”
Ismileshylyathim.“Christian,youhadmeatthemeadow.”
Hislipspartasheinhalessharply,thenhisfacetransformswithagrin,and
hishandsaresuddenlyfistingintomyhairandhismouthisonmine.
BackinthecarasweheadforSeattle,Christian’smoodhaslifted
considerably.
“Soyou’regoingtobuyit?”Iask.
“Yes.”
“You’llputEscalaonthemarket?”
Hefrowns.“WhywouldIdothat?”
“Topayfor…”Myvoicetrailsoff—ofcourse.Iflush.
Hesmirksatme.“Trustme,Icanaffordit.”
“Doyoulikebeingrich?”
“Yes.Showmesomeonewhodoesn’t,”hesaysdarkly.
Okay,getoffthatsubjectquickly.
“Anastasia,you’regoingtohavetolearntoberich,too,ifyousayyes,”he
sayssoftly.
“Wealthisn’tsomethingI’veeveraspiredto,Christian.”Ifrown.
“Iknow.Ilovethataboutyou.Butthenyou’veneverbeenhungry,”hesays
simply.
Hiswordsaresobering.
“Wherearewegoing?”Iaskbrightly,changingthesubject.
“Tocelebrate.”Christianrelaxes.
Oh!“Celebratewhat,thehouse?”
“Haveyouforgottenalready?Youractingeditorrole.”
“Ohyes.”Igrin.Unbelievably,Ihadforgotten.
“Where?”
“Uphighatmyclub.”
“Yourclub?”
“Yes.Oneofthem.”
TheMileHighClubisontheseventy-sixthfloorofColumbiaTower,higher
eventhanChristian’sapartment.It’sverynowandhasthemosthead-spinning
viewsoverSeattle.
“Cristal,ma’am?”ChristianhandsmeaglassofchilledchampagneasIsit
perchedonabarstool.
“Whythankyou,sir.”Istressthelastwordflirtatiously,battingmyeyelashes
athimdeliberately.
Hegazesatmeandhisfacedarkens.“Areyouflirtingwithme,MissSteele?”
“Yes,Mr.Grey,Iam.Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
“I’msureIcanthinkofsomething,”hesays,hisvoicelow.“Come—our
table’sready.”
Asweapproachthetable,Christianstopsme,hishandonmyelbow.
“Goandtakeyourpantiesoff,”hewhispers.
Oh?Adelicioustinglerunsdownmyspine.
“Go,”hecommandsquietly.
Whoa,what?Iblinkupathim.He’snotsmiling—he’sdeadserious.Every
musclebelowmywaistlinetightens.Ihandhimmyglassofchampagne,turn
sharplyonmyheel,andheadfortherestroom.
Shit.What’shegoingtodo?Perhapsthisclubisaptlynamed.
Therestroomsaretheheightofmoderndesign—alldarkwood,blackgranite,
andpoolsoflightfromstrategicallyplacedhalogens.Intheprivacyofthe
stall,IsmirkasIdivestmyselfofmyunderwear.AgainI’mgratefulI
changedintothenavyblueshiftdress.
IthoughtitappropriateattiretomeetthegoodDr.Flynn—Ihadn’texpected
theeveningtotakethisunexpectedcourse.
Iamexcitedalready.Whydoesheaffectmeso?IslightlyresenthoweasilyI
fallunderhisspell.Iknownowthatwewon’tbespendingtheevening
talkingthroughallourissuesandrecentevents…buthowcanIresisthim?
Checkingmyappearanceinthemirror,Iambright-eyedandflushedwith
excitement.
Issuesschmissues.
Itakeadeepbreathandheadbackoutintotheclub.Imean,it’snotasifI
haven’tgonepantylessbefore.Myinnergoddessisdrapedinapinkfeather
boaanddiamonds,struttingherstuffinfuck-meshoes.
ChristianstandspolitelywhenIreturntothetable,hisexpressionunreadable.
Helookshisusualperfect,cool,calm,andcollectedself.Ofcourse,Inow
knowdifferently.
“Sitbesideme,”hesays.Islideintotheseatandhesits.“I’veorderedfor
you.Ihopeyoudon’tmind.”Hehandsmemyhalf-finishedglassof
champagne,regardingmeintentlyandunderhisscrutiny,mybloodheats
anew.Herestshishandsonhisthighs.Itenseandpartmylegsslightly.
Thewaiterarriveswithadishofoystersoncrushedice.Oysters.Thememory
ofthetwoofusintheprivatediningroomattheHeathmanfillsmymind.We
werediscussinghiscontract.Ohboy.We’vecomealongwaysincethen.
“Ithinkyoulikedoysterslasttimeyoutriedthem.”Hisvoiceislow,
seductive.
“OnlytimeI’vetriedthem.”I’mallbreathy,myvoiceexposingme.Hislips
twitchwithasmile.
“Oh,MissSteele—whenwillyoulearn?”hemuses.
Hetakesanoysterfromthedishandliftshisotherhandfromhisthigh.I
flinchinanticipation,buthereachesforasliceoflemon.
“Learnwhat?”Iask.Jeez,mypulseisracing.Hislong,skilledfingersgently
squeezethelemonovertheshellfish.
“Eat,”hesays,holdingtheshellclosetomymouth.Ipartmylips,andhe
gentlyplacestheshellonmybottomlip.“Tipyourheadbackslowly,”he
murmurs.Idoasheasksandtheoysterslipsdownmythroat.Hedoesn’t
touchme,onlytheshell.
Christianhelpshimselftoone,thenfeedsmeanother.Wecontinuethis
tortuousroutineuntilalltwelvearegone.Hisskinneverconnectswithmine.
It’sdrivingmecrazy.
“Stilllikeoysters?”heasksasIswallowthefinalone.
Inod,flushed,cravinghistouch.
“Good.”
Isquirminmyseat.Whyisthissohot?
Heputshishandcasuallyonhisownthighagain,andImelt.Now.Please.
Touchme.
Myinnergoddessisonherknees,nakedexceptforherpanties—begging.He
runshishandupanddownhisthigh,liftsit,thenplacesitbackwhereitwas.
Thewaitertopsupourchampagneglassesandwhisksawayourplates.
Momentslaterhe’sbackwithourentrée,seabass—Idon’tbelieveit—served
withasparagus,sautéedpotatoes,andahollandaisesauce.
“Afavouriteofyours,Mr.Grey?”
“Mostdefinitely,MissSteele.ThoughIbelieveitwascodattheHeathman.”
Hishandmovesupanddownhisthigh.Mybreathingspikes,butstillhe
doesn’ttouchme.It’ssofrustrating.Itrytoconcentrateonourconversation.
“Iseemtorememberwewereinaprivatediningroomthen,discussing
contracts.”
“Happydays,”hesays,smirking.“ThistimeIhopetogettofuckyou.”He
moveshishandtopickuphisknife.
Gah!
Hetakesabiteoutofhisseabass.He’sdoingthisonpurpose.
“Don’tcountonit,”Imutterwithapoutandheglancesatme,amused.
“Speakingofcontracts,”Iadd.“TheNDA.”
“Tearitup,”hesayssimply.
Whoa.
“What?Really?”
“Yes.”
“You’resureI’mnotgoingtoruntotheSeattleTimeswithanexposé?”I
tease.
Helaughsandit’sawonderfulsound.Helookssoyoung.
“No.Itrustyou.I’mgoingtogiveyouthebenefitofthedoubt.”
Oh.Igrinshylyathim.“Ditto,”Ibreathe.
Hiseyeslightup.“I’mverygladyou’rewearingadress,”hemurmurs.And
bam—desirecoursesthroughmyalreadyoverheatedblood.
“Whyhaven’tyoutouchedme,then?”Ihiss.
“Missingmytouch?”heasksgrinning.He’samused…thebastard.
“Yes,”Iseethe.
“Eat,”heorders.
“You’renotgoingtotouchme,areyou?”
“No.”Heshakeshishead.
What?Igaspoutloud.
“Justimaginehowyou’llfeelwhenwe’rehome,”hewhispers.“Ican’twait
togetyouhome.”
“ItwillbeyourfaultifIcombusthereontheseventy-sixthfloor,”Imutter
throughgrittedteeth.
“Oh,Anastasia.We’dfindawaytoputthefireout,”hesays,grinning
salaciouslyatme.Fuming,Idigintomyseabass,andmyinnergoddess
narrowshereyesinquiet,deviouscontemplation.Wecanplaythisgame,too.
IlearnedthebasicsduringourmealattheHeathman.Itakeabiteoutofmy
seabass.Itismelt-in-the-mouthdelicious.Iclosemyeyes,savouringthe
taste.WhenIopenthem,IbeginmyseductionofChristianGrey,veryslowly
hitchingmyskirtup,exposingmoreofmythighs.
Christianpausesmomentarily,aforkfuloffishsuspendedmid-air.
Touchme.
Afterabeat,heresumeseating.Itakeanotherbiteofseabass,ignoringhim.
Then,puttingdownmyknife,Irunmyfingersuptheinsideofmylower
thigh,lightlytappingmyskinwithmyfingertips.It’sdistractingeventome,
especiallyasIamcravinghistouch.
Christianpausesoncemore.
“Iknowwhatyou’redoing.”Hisvoiceislowandhusky.
“Iknowthatyouknow,Mr.Grey,”Ireplysoftly.“That’sthepoint.”Ipickup
anasparagusstalk,gazesidewaysathimfrombeneathmylashes,thendipthe
asparagusintothehollandaisesauce,swirlingthetiproundandround.
“You’renotturningthetablesonme,MissSteele.”Smirkinghereachesover
andtakesthespearfromme—amazinglyandannoyinglymanagingnotto
touchmeagain.No,thisisn’tright—thisisnotgoingaccordingtoplan.Gah!
“Openyourmouth,”hecommands.
Iamlosingthisbattleofwills.Iglanceupathimagain,andhiseyesblaze
brightgrey.
PartingmylipsafractionIrunmytongueacrossmylowerlip.Christian
smilesandhiseyesdarkenfurther.
“Wider,”hebreathes,hislipspartingsothatIcanseehistongue.Igroan
inwardlyandbitemybottomlip,thendoasheasks.
Ihearhissharpintakeofbreath—he’snotsoimmune.Good,Iamfinally
gettingtohim.Myinnergoddessfist-pumpstheairaboveherchaiselongue.
Keepingmyeyeslockedonhis,Itakethespearinmymouth,andsuck,
gently…
delicately…ontheend.Thehollandaisesauceismouth-watering.Ibite
down,moaningquietlyinappreciation.
Christiancloseshiseyes.Yes!Whenheopensthemagain,hispupilshave
dilated.Theeffectonmeisimmediate.Igroanandreachouttotouchhis
thigh.Tomysurprise,heuseshisotherhandtograbmywrist.
“Oh,noyoudon’t,MissSteele,”hemurmurssoftly.Raisingmyhandtohis
mouth,hegentlybrushesmyknuckleswithhislips,andIsquirm.Finally!
More,please.
“Don’ttouch,”hescoldsmequietly,andplacesmyhandbackonmyknee.
It’ssofrustrating—thisbriefunsatisfactorycontact.
“Youdon’tplayfair.”Ipout.
“Iknow.”Hepicksuphischampagneglasstoproposeatoast,andImirror
hisactions.
“Congratulationsonyourpromotion,MissSteele.”WeclinkglassesandI
blush.
“Yes,kindofunexpected,”Imutter.Hefrownsasifsomeunpleasantthought
hascrossedhismind.
“Eat,”heorders.“Iamnottakingyouhomeuntilyou’vefinishedyourmeal,
andthenwecanreallycelebrate.”Hisexpressionissoheated,soraw,so
commanding.Iammelting.
“I’mnothungry.Notforfood.”
Heshakeshishead,thoroughlyenjoyinghimself,butnarrowshiseyesatme
justthesame.
“Eat,orI’llputyouacrossmyknee,righthere,andwe’llentertaintheother
diners.”
Hiswordsmakemesquirm.Hewouldn’tdare!Heandhistwitchypalm.I
pressmymouthintoahardlineandstareathim.Pickingupanasparagus
stalk,hedipstheheadintothehollandaise.
“Eatthis,”hemurmurs,hisvoicelowandseductive.
Iwillinglycomply.
“Youreallydon’teatenough.You’velostweightsinceI’veknownyou.”His
toneisgentle.
Idon’twanttothinkaboutmyweight;truthis,Ilikebeingthisslim.I
swallowtheasparagus.
“Ijustwanttogohomeandmakelove,”Imutterdisconsolately.Christian
grins.
“SodoI,andwewill.Eatup.”
Reluctantly,Iturnbacktomyfoodandstarttoeat.Honestly,I’vetakenmy
pantiesoffandeverything.Ifeellikeachildwhohasbeendeniedcandy.He
issuchatease,adelicious,hot,naughtytease,andallmine.
HequizzesmeaboutEthan.Asitturnsout,ChristiandoesbusinesswithKate
andEthan’sfather.Hmm…it’ssmallworld.I’mrelievedhedoesn’tmention
Dr.FlynnorthehouseasI’mfindingitdifficulttoconcentrateonour
conversation.Iwanttogohome.
Thecarnalanticipationisunfurlingbetweenus.He’ssogoodatthis.Making
mewait.
Settingthescene.Betweenbites,heplaceshishandonhisthigh,socloseto
mine,butstilldoesn’ttouchmejusttoteasemefurther.
Bastard!FinallyIfinishmyfood,andplacemyknifeandforkontheplate.
“Goodgirl,”hemurmurs,andthosetwowordsholdsomuchpromise.
Ifrownathim.“Whatnow?”Iask,desireclawingatmybelly.Oh,Iwantthis
man.
“Now?Weleave.Ibelieveyouhavecertainexpectations,MissSteele.Which
Iintendtofulfiltothebestofmyability.”
Whoa!
“Thebest…ofyoura…bil…ity?”Istutter.Holyshit.
Hegrinsandstands.
“Don’twehavetopay?”Iask,breathless.
Hecockshisheadtooneside.“Iamamemberhere.They’llbillme.Come,
Anastasia,afteryou.”Hestepsaside,andIstandtoleave,consciousthatIam
notwearingmypanties.
Hegazesatmedarkly,likehe’sundressingme,andIgloryinhiscarnal
appraisal.Itjustmakesmefeelsosexy—thisbeautifulmandesiresme.WillI
alwaysgetakickoutofthis?Deliberatelystoppinginfrontofhim,Ismooth
mydressovermyhips.
Christianwhispersinmyear,“Ican’twaittogetyouhome.”Buthestill
doesn’ttouchme.Onthewayouthemurmurssomethingaboutthecartothe
maîtred’,butI’mnotlistening,myinnergoddessisincandescentwith
anticipation.Jeez,shecouldlightupSeattle.
Waitingbytheelevators,wearejoinedbytwomiddle-agedcouples.When
thedoorsopen,Christiantakesmyelbowandsteersmetotheback.Iglance
around,andwe’resurroundedbydarksmoked-glassmirrors.Astheother
couplesenter,onemaninaratherunflatteringbrownsuitgreetsChristian.
“Grey,”henodspolitely.Christiannodsinreturnbutissilent.
Thecouplesstandinfrontofus,facingtheelevatordoors.Theyareobviously
friends—
thewomenchatloudly,excitedandanimatedaftertheirmeal.Ithinkthey’re
allalittletipsy.Asthedoorsclose,Christianbrieflystoopsdownbesideme
totiehisshoelace.Odd,hisshoelacesaren’tundone.Discreetlyheplaceshis
handonmyankle,startlingme,andashestandshishandtravelsswiftlyup
myleg,skatingdeliciouslyovermyskin—whoa—
rightup.Ihavetostiflemygaspofsurpriseashishandreachesmybackside.
Christianmovesbehindme.
Ohmy.Igapeatthepeopleinfrontofus,staringatthebacksoftheirheads.
Theyhavenoideawhatwe’reupto.Wrappinghisfreearmaroundmywaist,
Christianpullsmetohim,holdingmeinplaceashisfingersexplore.Holy
fuckingshit…inhere?Theelevatortravelssmoothlydown,stoppingatthe
fifty-thirdfloortoletsomemorepeopleon,butIamnotpayingattention.I
amfocusedoneverylittlemovehisfingersmake.Circlingaround…now
movingforward,questing,asweshuffleback.
AgainIstifleagroanwhenhisfingersfindtheirgoal.
“Alwayssoready,MissSteele,”hewhispersasheslipsalongfingerinside
me.Isquirmandgasp.Howcanhedothiswithallthesepeoplehere?
“Keepstillandquiet,”hewarns,murmuringinmyear.
I’mflushed,warm,wanting,trappedinanelevatorwithsevenpeople,sixof
themoblivioustowhat’soccurringinthecorner.Hisfingerslidesinandout
ofme,againandagain.Mybreathing.Jeez,it’sembarrassing.Iwanttotell
himtostop…andcontinue…
andstop.Isagagainsthim,andhetightenshisarmaroundme,hiserection
againstmyhip.
Wehaltagainattheforty-fourthfloor.Oh…howlongisthistorturegoingto
continue?In…out…in…out…SubtlyIgrindmyselfagainsthispersistent
finger.Afterallthistimeofnottouchingme,hechoosesnow!Here!Andit
makesmefeelso—wanton.
“Hush,”hebreathes,seeminglyunaffectedasyettwomorepeoplecome
aboard.Theelevatorisgettingcrowded.Christianmovesusbothfartherback
sothatwe’renowpressedintothecorner,holdingmeinplaceandtorturing
mefurther.Henuzzlesmyhair.I’msurewelooklikeayoungcoupleinlove,
canoodlinginthecorner,ifanyonecouldbebotheredtoturnroundandsee
whatwe’redoing…Andheeasesasecondfingerinsideme.
Fuck!Igroan,andI’mthankfulthatthegaggleofpeopleinfrontofusare
stillchattingaway,totallyoblivious.
Oh,Christian,whatyoudotome.Ileanmyheadagainsthischest,closing
myeyesandsurrenderingtohisunrelentingfingers.
“Don’tcome,”hewhispers.“Iwantthatlater.”Hesplayshishandoutonmy
belly,pressingdownslightly,ashecontinueshissweetpersecution.The
feelingisexquisite.
Finallytheelevatorreachesthefirstfloor.Withaloudpingthedoorsopen,
andalmostinstantlythepassengersstartexiting.Christianslowlyslipshis
fingersoutofmeandkissesthebackofmyhead.Iglanceroundathim,and
hesmiles,thennodsagainatMr.Badly-fitted-brown-suitwhoreturnshisnod
ofacknowledgmentasheshufflesoutoftheelevatorwithhiswife.Ibarely
notice,concentratinginsteadonstayinguprightandtryingtomanagemy
panting.Jeez,Ifeelachingandbereft.Christianreleasesme,leavingmeto
standonmyowntwofeetwithoutleaningonhim.
Turning,Igazeupathim.Helookscoolandunruffled,hisusualcomposed
self.
Hmm…Thisissonotfair.
“Ready?”heasks.Hiseyesgleamwickedlyasheslipsfirsthisindex,thenhis
middlefingerintohismouthandsucksonthem.“Mightyfine,MissSteele,”
hewhispers.Inearlyconvulseonthespot.
“Ican’tbelieveyoujustdidthat,”Imurmur,andI’mpracticallycomingapart
attheseams.
“You’dbesurprisedwhatIcando,MissSteele,”hesays.Reachingout,he
tucksalockofhairbehindmyear,aslightsmilebetrayinghisamusement.
“Iwanttogetyouhome,butmaybewe’llonlymakeitasfarasthecar.”He
grinsdownatmeashetakesmyhandandleadsmeoutoftheelevator.
What!Sexinthecar?Can’twejustdoithereonthecoolmarbleofthelobby
floor…
please?
“Come.”
“Yes,Iwantto.”
“MissSteele!”headmonishesmewithmock-amusedhorror.
“I’veneverhadsexinacar,”Imumble.Christianhaltsandplacesthosesame
fingersundermychin,tippingmyheadbackandglaringdownatme.
“I’mverypleasedtohearthat.IhavetosayI’dbeverysurprised,nottosay
mad,ifyouhad.”
Iflush,blinkingupathim.Ofcourse,I’veonlyhadsexwithhim.Ifrownat
him.
“That’snotwhatImeant.”
“Whatdidyoumean?”Histoneisunexpectedlyharsh.
“Christian,itwasjustanexpression.”
“Thefamousexpression,‘I’veneverhadsexinacar.’Yes,itjusttripsoffthe
tongue.”
Jeez…what’shisproblem?
“Christian,Iwasn’tthinking.Forheaven’ssake,you’vejust…um,donethat
tomeinanelevatorfullofpeople.Mywitsarescattered.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“WhatdidIdotoyou?”hechallenges.
Iscowlathim.Hewantsmetosayit.
“Youturnedmeon,bigtime.Nowtakemehomeandfuckme.”
Hismouthdropsopenthenhelaughs,surprised.Nowhelooksyoungand
carefree.Oh,tohearhimlaugh.Iloveitbecauseit’ssorare.
“You’reabornromantic,MissSteele.”Hetakesmyhand,andweheadoutof
thebuildingtowherethevaletstandsbymySaab.
“Soyouwantsexinacar,”Christianmurmursasheswitchesontheignition.
“Quitefrankly,Iwouldhavebeenhappywiththelobbyfloor.”
“Trustme,Ana,sowouldI.ButIdon’tfancybeingarrestedatthistimeof
night,andIdidn’twanttofuckyouinarestroom.Well,nottoday.”
What!“Youmeantherewasapossibility?”
“Ohyes.”
“Let’sgoback.”
Heturnstogazeatmeandlaughs.Hislaughterisinfectious;soonwe’reboth
laughing—wonderful,cathartic,head-held-backlaughter.Reachingover,he
placeshishandonmyknee,caressingitgentlywithlongskilledfingers.I
stoplaughing.
“Patience,Anastasia,”hemurmursandpullsintotheSeattletraffic.
HeparkstheSaabintheEscalagarageandturnsofftheengine.Suddenly,in
theconfinesofthecar,theatmospherebetweenuschanges.Withwanton
anticipation,Iglanceathim,tryingtocontainmypalpitatingheart.He’s
turnedtowardme,leaningagainstthedoor,hiselbowproppedonthesteering
wheel.
Hepullshislowerlipwithhisthumbandindexfinger.Hismouthisso
distracting.
Iwantitonme.He’swatchingmeintently,hiseyesdarkgrey.Mymouth
goesdry.Hesmilesaslowsexysmile.
“Wewillfuckinthecaratatimeandplaceofmychoosing.Rightnow,I
wanttotakeyouoneveryavailablesurfaceofmyapartment.”
It’slikehe’saddressingmebelowthewaist…myinnergoddessperforms
fourarabesquesandapasdeBasque.
“Yes.”Jeez,Isoundsobreathy,desperate.
Heleansforwardafraction.Iclosemyeyes,waitingforhiskiss,thinking—
finally.Butnothinghappens.Afteramoment,Iopenmyeyestofindhim
gazingatme.Ican’tfigureoutwhathe’sthinking,butbeforeIcansay
anything,hedistractsmeoncemore.
“IfIkissyounowwewon’tmakeitintotheapartment.Come.”
Gah!Couldthismanbeanymorefrustrating?Heclimbsoutofthecar.
Onceagain,wewaitfortheelevator,mybodythrummingwithanticipation.
Christianholdsmyhand,runninghisthumbrhythmicallyacrossmyknuckles,
eachstrokeechoingthroughme.Oh,Iwanthishandsonallofme.He’s
torturedmelongenough.
“So,whathappenedtoinstantgratification?”Imurmurwhilewewait.
Christiansmirksdownatme.
“It’snotappropriateineverysituation,Anastasia.”
“Sincewhen?”
“Sincethisevening.”
“Whyareyoutorturingmeso?”
“Titfortat,MissSteele.”
“HowamItorturingyou?”
“Ithinkyouknow.”
Igazeupathimandhisexpressionisdifficulttoread.Hewantsmyanswer
…that’sit.
“I’mintodelayedgratification,too,”Iwhisper,smilingshyly.
Hetugsmyhandunexpectedly,andsuddenlyIaminhisarms.Hegrabsthe
hairatthenapeofmyneck,pullinggentlysomyheadtipsback.
“WhatcanIdotomakeyousayyes?”heasksfervently,throwingmeoff
balanceoncemore.Iblinkathim—athislovely,serious,desperate
expression.
“Givemesometime?Please,”Imurmur.Hegroansandfinallyhekissesme,
longandhard.Thenwe’reintheelevator,andwe’reallhandsandmouths
andtonguesandlipsandfingersandhair.Desire,thickandstrong,lances
throughmyblood,cloudingallmyreason.
Hepushesmeagainstthewall,pinningmewithhiships,onehandinmyhair,
theotheratmychin,holdingmeinplace.
“Youownme,”hewhispers.“Myfateisinyourhands,Ana.”
Hiswordsareintoxicating,andinmyoverheatedstate,Iwanttoripoffhis
clothes.
Ipushoffhisjacket,andastheelevatorarrivesattheapartment,wetumble
outintothefoyer.
Christianpinsmetothewallbytheelevator,hisjacketfallingtothefloor,
andhishandtravelsupmyleg,hislipsneverleavingmine.Hehoistsupmy
dress.
“Firstsurfacehere,”hebreathesandabruptlyheliftsme.“Wrapyourlegs
aroundme.”
IdoasI’mtold,andheturnsandlaysmedownonthefoyertable,sohe’s
standingbetweenmylegs.I’mawarethattheusualvaseofflowersis
missing.Huh?Reachingintohisjeanspocket,hefishesoutafoilpacketand
handsittome,undoinghisfly.
“Doyouknowhowmuchyouturnmeon?”
“What?”Ipant.“No…I…”
“Well,youdo,”hemutters,“allthetime.”Hegrabsthefoilpacketfrommy
hands.Oh,thisissoquick,butafterallhistantalizingteasing,Iwanthim
badly—rightnow.Hegazesdownatmeasherollsonthecondom,thenputs
hishandsundermythighs,spreadingmylegswider.
Positioninghimself,hepauses.“Keepyoureyesopen.Iwanttoseeyou,”he
whispersandclaspingbothmyhandswithhis,hesinksslowlyintome.
Itry,Ireallydo,butthefeelingissoexquisite.WhatI’vebeenwaitingfor
afterallhisteasing.Oh,thefullness,thisfeeling…Igroanandarchmyback
offthetable.
“Open!”hegrowls,tighteninghishandsonmineandthrustingsharplyinto
mesothatIcryout.
Iblinkmyeyesopen,andhestaresdownatmewide-eyed.Slowlyhe
withdrawsthensinksintomeoncemore,hismouthslackeningandthen
forminganAh…,buthesaysnothing.Seeinghisarousal,hisreactiontome
—Ilightupinside,mybloodscorchingthroughmyveins.Hisgreyeyesburn
intomine.Hepicksuptherhythm,andIrevelinit,gloryinit,watchinghim,
watchingme—hispassion,hislove—aswecomeapart,together.
IcalloutasIexplodearoundhim,andChristianfollows.
“Yes,Ana!”hecries.Hecollapsesonme,releasingmyhandsandrestinghis
headonmychest.Mylegsarestillwrappedaroundhim,andunderthe
patient,maternaleyesoftheMadonnapaintings,Icradlehisheadagainstme
andstruggletocatchmybreath.
Heraiseshisheadtolookatme.“I’mnotfinishedwithyouyet,”hemurmurs
andleaningup,hekissesme.
IlienakedinChristian’sbed,sprawledoverhischest,panting.Holycow—
doeshisenergyeverwane?Christiantrailshisfingersupanddownmyback.
“Satisfied,MissSteele?”
Imurmurmyassent.Ihavenoenergyleftfortalking.Raisingmyhead,Iturn
unfocusedeyestohimandbaskinhiswarm,fondgaze.Verydeliberately,I
anglemyheaddownsoheknowsIamgoingtokisshischest.
Hetensesmomentarily,andIplantasoftkissinhischesthair,breathingin
hisuniqueChristiansmell,mixedwithsweatandsex.It’sheady.Herolls
ontohissidesoI’mlyingbesidehimandgazesdownatme.
“Issexlikethisforeveryone?I’msurprisedanyoneevergoesout,”Imurmur,
feelingsuddenlyshy.
Hegrins.“Ican’tspeakforeveryone,butit’sprettydamnedspecialwithyou,
Anastasia.”Hebendsandkissesme.
“That’sbecauseyou’reprettydamnedspecial,Mr.Grey,”Iagree,smilingup
athimandcaressinghisface.Heblinksdownatmeataloss.
“It’slate.Gotosleep,”hesays.Hekissesme,thenliesdownandpullsmeto
himsowe’respooninginbed.
“Youdon’tlikecompliments.”
“Gotosleep,Anastasia.”
Hmm…Butheisprettydamnedspecial.Jeez…whydoesn’therealizethis?
“Ilovedthehouse,”Imurmur.
Hesaysnothingforamoment,butIsensehisgrin.
“Iloveyou.Gotosleep.”Henuzzlesmyhair,andIdriftintosleep,safein
hisarms,dreamingofsunsetsandFrenchdoorsandwidestaircases…anda
smallcopper-hairedboyrunningthroughameadow,laughingandgigglingas
Ichasehim.
“Gottago,baby.”Christiankissesmejustbelowmyear.
Iopenmyeyesandit’smorning.Iturntofacehim,buthe’supanddressed
andfreshanddelicious,leaningoverme.
“Whattimeisit?”Ohno…Idon’twanttobelate.
“Don’tpanic.Ihaveabreakfastmeeting.”Herubshisnoseagainstmine.
“Yousmellgood,”Imurmur,stretchingoutbeneathhim,mylimbs
pleasurablytightandcreakyfromallourexploitsyesterday.Iwrapmyarms
aroundhisneck.
“Don’tgo.”
Hecockshisheadtoonesideandraiseshiseyebrow.“MissSteele—areyou
tryingtokeepamanfromanhonestday’swork?”
Inodsleepilyathim,andhesmileshisnewshysmile.
“Astemptingasyouare,Ihavetogo.”Hekissesmeandstands.He’s
wearingareallysharpdarknavysuit,whiteshirtandnavytie,andhelooks
everyinchtheCEO…thehotCEO.“Laters,baby,”hemurmursandhe’soff.
GlancingattheclockInoteit’salreadyseven—Imusthavesleptthroughthe
alarm.
Well,timetogetup.
Intheshower,inspirationhitsme.I’vethoughtofanotherbirthdaypresentfor
Christian.
It’ssodifficulttobuysomethingforthemanwhohaseverything.I’vealready
givenhimmymainpresent,andIstillhavetheotheritemIboughtatthe
touristshop,butthisisonepresentthatwillreallybeforme.Ihugmyselfin
anticipationasIswitchofftheshower.Ijusthavetoprepareit.
Inthewalk-incloset,Iputonadarkredfitteddresswithasquareneckline,
cutquitelow.Yes,thiswilldoforwork.
NowforChristian’spresent.Istartrummagingthroughhisdrawers,looking
forhisties.InthebottomdrawerIfindthosefaded,rippedjeans,theoneshe
wearsintheplayroom—theoneshelookssohotin.Istrokethemgently,
usingmywholehand.Ohmy,thematerialissosoft.
Beneaththem,Ifindalarge,black,flatcardboardbox.Itpiquesmyinterest
immediately.What’sinhere?Istareatit,feelinglikeI’mtrespassingagain.
Takingitout,Ishakeit.It’sheavyasifitholdspapersormanuscripts.I
cannotresist,Iopenthelid—andquicklyshutitagain.Holyfuck—
photographsfromtheRedRoom.Theshockmakesmesitbackonmyheels
asItrytowipetheimagefrommybrain.WhydidIopenthebox?Whyhashe
keptthem?
Ishudder.Mysubconsciousscowlsatme—thisisbeforeyou.Forgetthem.
She’sright.StandingupInoticehistiesarehangingattheendofhisclothes
rail.Ifindmyfavouriteandexitquickly.
ItrytotellmyselfthosephotosareBA—BeforeAna.Mysubconsciousnods
withapproval,butit’swithaheavierheartthatIheadintothemainroomfor
breakfast.Mrs.Jonessmilesatmewarmlyandthenfrowns.
“Everythingallright,Ana?”sheaskskindly.
“Yes,”Imurmur,distracted.“Doyouhaveakeytothe…um,playroom?”
Shepausesmomentarily,surprised.
“Yes,ofcourse.”Sheunclipsasmallbunchofkeysfromherbelt.“What
wouldyoulikeforbreakfast,dear?”sheasksasshehandsmethekeys.
“Justgranola.Iwon’tbelong.”
Ifeelmoreambivalentaboutthisgiftnowbutonlysincethediscoveryof
thosephotographs.Nothing’schanged,mysubconsciousbarksatmeagain,
glaringatmeoverherhalf-moonwingedglasses.Thatpicturewashot,my
innergoddesschipsin,andmentallyIscowlather.Yesitwas—toohotfor
me.
Whatelsedoeshehavehiddenaway?QuicklyIferretthroughthemuseum
chest,takewhatIneed,andlocktheplayroomdoorbehindme.Wouldn’tdo
forJosétodiscoverthis!
IhandthekeysbacktoMrs.Jonesandsitdowntodevourmybreakfast,
feelingoddthatChristianisabsent.Thephotographimagedancesunwelcome
aroundmymind.Iwonderwhoitwas?Leilaperhaps?
Onmydriveintowork,IdebatewhetherornottotellChristianIfoundhis
photographs.
No,screamsmysubconscious,herEdvardMunchfaceon.Idecideshe’s
probablyright.
AsIsitdownatmydesk,myBlackberrybuzzes.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Surfaces
Date:June17,201108:59
To:AnastasiaSteele
Icalculatethatthereareatleast30surfacestogo.Iamlookingforwardto
eachandeveryoneofthem.Thenthere’sthefloors,thewalls—andlet’snot
forgetthebalcony.
Afterthatthere’smyoffice…
Missyou.x
ChristianGrey
PriapicCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Hise-mailmakesmesmile,andallmyearlierreservationsevaporate.It’sme
hewantsnow,andmemoriesoflastnight’ssexcapadesfloodmymind…the
elevator,thefoyer,thebed.Priapicisright.Iwonderidlywhatthefemale
equivalentmightbe?
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Romance?
Date:June17,201109:03
To:ChristianGrey
Mr.GreyYouhaveaone-trackmind.
Imissedyouatbreakfast
ButMrs.Joneswasveryaccommodating.
Ax
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Intrigued
Date:June17,201109:07
To:AnastasiaSteele
WhatwasMrs.Jonesaccommodatingabout?
WhatareyouuptoMissSteele?
ChristianGrey
CuriousCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
Howdoesheknow?
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:TappingNose
Date:June17,201109:10
To:ChristianGrey
Waitandsee—it’sasurprise.
Ineedtowork…letmebe.
Loveyou.
Ax
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Frustrated
Date:June17,201109:12
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ihateitwhenyoukeepthingsfromme.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc.
IstareatthesmallscreenofmyBlackberry.Thevehemenceimplicitinhise-
mailtakesmebysurprise.Whydoeshefeellikethis?It’snotlikeI’mhiding
eroticphotographsofmyexes.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Indulgingyou
Date:June17,201109:14
To:ChristianGrey
It’sforyourbirthday.
Anothersurprise.
Don’tbesopetulant.
Ax
Hedoesn’treplyimmediately,andI’mcalledintoameetingsoIcan’tdwell
onitfortoolong.
WhenInextglanceatmyBlackberry,tomyhorrorIrealizeit’sfourinthe
afternoon.
Wherehasthedaygone?StillnomessagefromChristian.Idecidetoe-mail
himagain.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Hello
Date:June17,201116:03
To:ChristianGrey
Areyounottalkingtome?
Don’tforgetIamgoingforadrinkwithJosé,andthathe’sstayingwithus
tonight.
Pleaserethinkaboutjoiningus.
Ax
Hedoesn’treply,andIfeelafrissonofunease.Ihopehe’sokay.Callinghis
mobile,Igethisvoicemail.TheannouncementsimplysaysGrey,leavea
messageinhismostclippedtone.“Hi…um…it’sme.Ana.Areyouokay?
Callme,”Istutterthroughmymessage.
I’veneverhadtoleaveoneforhimbefore.IflushasIhangup.Ofcourse
he’llknowit’syou,idiot!Mysubconsciousrollshereyesatme.Iamtempted
toringhisPAAndreabutdecidethat’sasteptoofar.ReluctantlyIcontinue
mywork.
Myphoneringsunexpectedlyandmyheartjumps.Christian!Butno—it’s
Kate,mybestfriendfinally!
“Ana!”sheshoutsfromwhereversheis.
“Kate!Areyouback?I’vemissedyou.”
“Me,too.Ihavesomuchtotellyou.We’reatSea-Tac—meandmyman.”
Shegigglesinamostun-Kate-likeway.
“Cool.Ihavesomuchtotellyou,too.”
“Seeyoubackattheapartment?”
“I’mhavingdrinkswithJosé.Joinus.”
“José’sintown?Sure!Textmewhere.”
“Okay.”Ibeam.Mybestfriendishome.Afterallthistime!
“Yougood,Ana?”
“Yeah,I’mfine.”
“StillwithChristian?”
“Yes.”
“Good.Laters!”
Oh,notheraswell.Elliot’sinfluenceknowsnobounds.
“Yeah—laters,baby.”Igrinandshehangsup.
Wow.Kateishome.HowamIgoingtotellherallthathashappened?I
shouldwriteitdownsoIdon’tforgetanything.
Anhourlatermyofficephonerings—Christian?No,it’sClaire.
“Youshouldseetheguyaskingforyouinreception.Howcomeyouknowall
thesehotguys,Ana?”
Josémustbehere.Iglanceattheclock—it’sfivefifty-five,andasmallthrill
ofexcitementpulsesthroughme.Ihaven’tseenhiminages.
“Ana,wow!Youlookgreat.Sogrownup.”Hegrinsatme.
JustbecauseI’mwearingasmartdress…jeez!
Hehugsmehard.“Andtall,”hemuttersinamazement.
“It’sjusttheshoes,José.Youdon’tlooksobadyourself.”
He’swearingjeans,ablackT-shirt,andablackandwhitecheckflannelshirt.
“I’llgrabmythingsandwecango.”
“Cool.I’llwaithere.”
IpickuptwoRollingRocksfromthecrowdedbarandheadovertothetable
whereJoséisseated.
“YoufoundChristian’splaceokay?”
“Yeah.Ihaven’tbeeninside.Ijustdeliveredthephotostotheservice
elevator.SomeguynamedTaylortookthemup.Lookslikequiteaplace.”
“Itis.Youshouldseeinside.”
“Can’twait.Salud,Ana.Seattleagreeswithyou.”
Iflushasweclinkbottles.It’sChristianthatagreeswithme.“Salud.Tellme
aboutyourshowandhowitwent.”
Hebeamsandlaunchesintothestory.Hesoldallbutthreeofhisphotos,
whichhastakencareofhisstudentloansandlefthimsomecashtospare.
“AndI’vebeencommissionedtodosomelandscapesforthePortlandTourist
Authority.Prettycool,huh?”hefinishesproudly.
“OhJosé—that’swonderful.Notinterferingwithyourstudiesthough?”I
frownathim.
“Nah.NowthatyouguyshavegoneandthreeoftheguysIusedtohangout
with,Ihavemoretime.”
“Nohotbabetokeepyoubusy?LasttimeIsawyou,youhadhalfadozen
womenhangingonyoureveryword.”Iarchaneyebrowathim.
“Nah,Ana.Noneofthemarewomanenoughforme.”He’sallbravado.
“Ohsure.JoséRodriguez,ladykiller.”Igiggle.
“Hey—Ihavemymoments,Steele.”Helooksvaguelyhurt,andIam
chastened.
“Sureyoudo.”Imollifyhim.
“So,how’sGrey?”heasks,histonechanging,becomingcooler.
“He’sgood.We’regood,”Imurmur.
“Serious,yousay?”
“Yes.Serious.”
“He’snottoooldforyou?”
“OhJosé.Youknowwhatmymomsays—Iwasbornold.”
José’smouthtwistswryly.
“Howisyourmom?”Andlikethat,weareoutofthedangerzone.
“Ana!”
Iturnandthere’sKatewithEthan.Shelooksgorgeous:sun-kissed,bleached
strawberry-blondhair,goldentan,andbeamingwhitesmile,andsoshapelyin
herwhitecamiandtightwhitejeans.AlleyesareonKate.Ileapupfrommy
seattogiveherahug.OhhowI’vemissedthiswoman!
Shepushesmeawayfromherandholdsmeatarm’slength,examiningme
closely.Iflushunderherintensegaze.
“You’velostweight.Alotofweight.Andyoulookdifferent.Grownup.
What’sbeengoingon?”shesays,allmotherhen,concernedandbossy.“Ilike
yourdress.Suitsyou.”
“Alot’shappenedsinceyouwentaway.I’lltellyoulaterwhenwe’reonour
own.”IamnotreadyfortheKatherineKavanaghInquisitionjustyet.She
regardsmesuspiciously.
“You’reokay?”sheasksgently.
“Yes,”Ismile,thoughI’dbehappierknowingwhereChristianis.
“Cool.”
“Hi,Ethan.”Igrinathim,andhegivesmeaquickhug.
“Hi,Ana,”hewhispersinmyear.
Joséfrownsathim.
“HowwaslunchwithMia?”IaskEthan.
“Interesting,”hesayscryptically.
Oh?
“Ethan—youknowJosé?”
“We’vemetonce,”Josémutters,assessingEthanastheyshakehands.
“Yeah,atKate’splaceinVancouver,”Ethansays,smilingpleasantlyatJosé.
“Right—
who’sforadrink?”
Imakemywaytotherestrooms.WhilethereItextChristianourlocation;
perhapshe’lljoinus.Therearenomissedcallsfromhimandnoe-mails.This
isnotlikehim.
“Whassup,Ana?”JoséasksasIcomebacktothetable.
“Ican’treachChristian.Ihopehe’sokay.”
“He’llbefine.Likeanotherbeer?”
“Sure.”
Kateleansacross.“Ethansayssomemadstalkerex-girlfriendwasinthe
apartmentwithagun?”
“Well…yeah.”Ishrugapologetically.Ohjeez—dowehavetodothisnow?
“Ana—whatthehell’sbeengoingon?”Katestopsabruptlyandchecksher
phone.
“Hi,baby,”shesayswhensheanswersit.Baby!Shefrownsandlooksatme.
“Sure,”
shesaysandturnstome.“It’sElliot…hewantstotalktoyou.”
“Ana.”Elliot’svoiceisclippedandquiet,andmyscalppricklesominously.
“What’swrong?”
“It’sChristian.He’snotbackfromPortland.”
“What?Whatdoyoumean?”
“Hishelicopterhasgonemissing.”
“CharlieTango?”Iwhisperasallthebreathleavesmybody.“No!”
Istareattheflames,mesmerized.Theydanceandweavebrightblazing
orangewithtipsofcobaltblueinthefireplaceinChristian’sapartment.And
despitetheheatpumpingoutofthefireandtheblanketdrapedaroundmy
shoulders,I’mcold.Bone-chillinglycold.
I’mawareofhushedvoices,manyhushedvoices.Butthey’reinthe
background,adistantbuzz.Idon’thearthewords.AllIcanhear,allIcan
focuson,isthesofthissofthegasfromthefire.
Mythoughtsturntothehousewesawyesterdayandthehugefireplaces—real
fireplacesforburningwood.I’dliketomakelovewithChristianinfrontofa
realfire.I’dliketomakelovewithChristianinfrontofthisfire.Yes,that
wouldbefun.Nodoubt,he’dthinkofsomewaytomakeitmemorablelike
allthetimeswe’vemadelove.Isnortwrylytomyself,eventhetimeswhen
wewerejustfucking.Yes,thosewereprettymemorable,too.Whereishe?
Theflamesshimmyandflicker,holdingmecaptive,keepingmenumb.I
focussolelyontheirflaring,scorchingbeauty.Theyarebewitching.
Anastasia,you’vebewitchedme.
Hesaidthatthefirsttimehesleptwithmeinmybed.Ohno…
Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyself,andtheworldfallsawayfrommeandreality
bleedsintomyconsciousness.Thecreepingemptinessinsideexpandssome
more.CharlieTangoismissing.
“Ana.Here,”Mrs.Jonesgentlycoaxesme,hervoicebringingmebackinto
theroom,intothenow,intotheanguish.Shehandsmeacupoftea.Itakethe
cupandsaucergratefully,therattlebetrayingmyshakinghands.
“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,myvoicehoarsefromunshedtearsandthelarge
lumpinmythroat.
Miasitsacrossfrommeonthelarger-than-largeU-shapedcouch,holding
handswithGrace.Theygazeatme,painandanxietyetchedontheirlovely
faces.Gracelooksolder—
amotherworriedforherson.Iblinkdispassionatelyatthem.Ican’toffera
reassuringsmile,ateareven—there’snothing,justblanknessandthegrowing
emptiness.IgazeatElliot,José,andEthan,whostandaroundthebreakfast
bar,allseriousfaces,talkingquietly.
Discussingsomethinginsoftsubduedvoices.Behindthem,Mrs.Jonesbusies
herselfinthekitchen.
KateisintheTVroom,monitoringthelocalnews.Ihearthefaintsquawk
fromthebigplasmaTV.Ican’tbeartoseethenewsitemagain—Christian
greymissing—hisbeautifulfaceonTV.
Idly,itoccurstomethatI’veneverseensomanypeopleinthisroom,yet
theyarestilldwarfedbyitssheersize.Littleislandsoflost,anxiouspeoplein
myFifty’shome.Whatwouldhethinkaboutthembeinghere?
Somewhere,TaylorandCarrickaretalkingtotheauthoritieswhoaredrip-
feedingusinformation,butit’sallmeaningless.Thefactis—he’smissing.
He’sbeenmissingforeighthours.Nosign,nowordfromhim.Thesearchhas
beencalledoff—thismuchIdoknow.
It’sjusttoodark.Andwedon’tknowwhereheis.Hecouldbehurt,hungry,
orworse.No!
IofferanothersilentprayertoGod.PleaseletChristianbeokay.Pleaselet
Christianbeokay.Irepeatitoverandoverinmyhead—mymantra,my
lifeline,somethingconcretetoclingtoinmydesperation.Irefusetothinkthe
worst.No,don’tgothere.Thereishope.
“You’remylifeline.”
Christian’swordscomebacktohauntme.Yes,thereisalwayshope.Imust
notdespair.
Hiswordsechothroughmymind.
“I’mnowafirmadvocateofinstantgratification.Carpediem,Ana.”
Whydidn’tIseizetheday?
“I’mdoingthisbecauseI’vefinallymetsomeoneIwanttospendtherestof
mylifewith.”
Iclosemyeyesinsilentprayer,rockinggently.Please,lettherestofhislife
notbethisshort.Please,please.Wehaven’thadenoughtime…weneed
moretime.We’vedonesomuchinthelastfewweeks,comesofar.Itcan’t
end.Allourtendermoments:thelipstick,whenhemadelovetomeforthe
firsttimeattheOlympichotel,onhiskneesinfrontofmeofferinghimselfto
me,finallytouchinghim.
“Iamjustthesame,Ana.IloveyouandIneedyou.Touchme.Please.”
Oh,Ilovehimso.Iwillbenothingwithouthim,nothingbutashadow—all
thelighteclipsed.No,no,no…mypoorChristian.
“Thisisme,Ana.Allofme…andI’mallyours.WhatdoIhavetodoto
makeyourealizethat?TomakeyouseethatIwantyouanywayIcanget
you.ThatIloveyou.”
AndIyou,myFiftyShades.
Iopenmyeyesandgazeunseeingintothefireoncemore,memoriesofour
timetogetherflittingthroughmymind:hisboyishjoywhenweweresailing
andgliding;hissuave,sophisticated,hot-as-helllookatthemaskedball;
dancing,ohyes,dancinghereintheapartmenttoSinatra,whirlingroundthe
room;hisquiet,anxioushopeyesterdayatthehouse—thatstunningview.
“Iwilllaymyworldatyourfeet,Anastasia.Iwantyou,bodyandsoul,
forever.”
Oh,please,lethimbeokay.Hecannotbegone.Heisthecentreofmy
universe.
Aninvoluntarysobescapesmythroat,andIclutchmyhandtomymouth.
No.Imustbestrong.
Joséissuddenlyatmyside,orhashebeenthereawhile?Ihavenoidea.
“Doyouwanttocallyourmomordad?”heasksgently.
No!IshakemyheadandclutchJosé’shand.Icannotspeak,IknowIwill
dissolveifIdo,butthewarmthandgentlesqueezeofhishandoffersmeno
solace.
Oh,Mom.Myliptremblesatthethoughtofmymother.ShouldIcallher?
No.Icouldn’tdealwithherreaction.MaybeRay,hewouldn’tgetemotional
—henevergetsemotional,notevenwhentheMarinerslose.
Gracerisestojointheboys,distractingme.Thatmustbethelongestshe’ssat
still.Miacomestositbesidemetooandgrabsmyotherhand.
“Hewillcomeback,”shesays,hervoiceinitiallydeterminedbutcrackingon
thelastword.Hereyesarewideandred-rimmed,herfacepaleandpinched
fromlackofsleep.
IgazeupatEthan,whoiswatchingMiaandElliot,whohashisarmsaround
Grace.Iglanceattheclock.It’saftereleven,headingtowardmidnight.Damn
time!Witheachpassinghour,theclawingemptinessexpands,consumingme,
chokingme.IknowdeepdowninsideIampreparingmyself,preparing
myselffortheworst.Iclosemyeyesandofferupanothersilentprayer,
claspingbothMiaandJosé’shands.
Openingthemagain,Istareintotheflamesoncemore.Icanseehisshysmile
—myfavouriteofallhisexpressions,aglimpseoftherealChristian,myreal
Christian.Heissomanypeople:controlfreak,CEO,stalker,sexgod,Dom—
andatthesametime—suchaboywithhistoys.Ismile.Hiscar,hisboat,his
plane…CharlieTango…no…no…
mylostboy,trulylostrightnow.Mysmilefadesandpainlancesthroughme.
Irememberhimintheshower,wipingawaythelipstickmarks.
“I’mnothing,Anastasia.I’mahuskofaman.Idon’thaveaheart.”
Thelumpinmythroatexpands.Oh,Christian,youdo,youdohaveaheart,
andit’smine.Iwanttocherishitforever.Eventhoughhe’ssocomplexand
difficult,Ilovehim.Iwillalwayslovehim.Therewillneverbeanyoneelse.
Ever.
IremembersittinginStarbucksweighingupmyChristianprosandcons.All
thosecons,eventhosephotographsIfoundthismorning,meltinto
insignificancenow.There’sjusthimandwhetherhe’llcomeback.Ohplease,
Lord,bringhimback,pleaselethimbeokay.I’llgotochurch…I’lldo
anything.Oh,ifIgethimback,Ishallseizetheday.Hisvoiceechoesaround
myheadoncemore:“Carpediem,Ana.”
Igazedeeperintothefire,theflamesstilllickingandcurlingaroundeach
other,blazingbrightly.ThenGraceshrieks,andeverythinggoesintoslow
motion.
“Christian!”
IturnmyheadintimetoseeGracebarrellingacrossthegreatroomfrom
whereshehadbeenpacingsomewherebehindme,andthereintheentrance
standsadismayedChristian.
He’sdressedinjusthisshirtsleevesandsuitpants,andhe’sholdinghisnavy
jacket,shoes,andsocks.Helookstired,dirty,andutterlybeautiful.
Holyfuck…Christian.He’salive.Igazenumblyathim,tryingtoworkoutif
I’mhallucinatingorifhe’sreallyhere.
Hisexpressionisoneofutterbewilderment.Hedepositshisjacketandshoes
onthefloorintimetocatchGrace,whothrowsherarmsaroundhisneckand
kisseshimhardonthecheek.
“Mom?”
Christiangazesdownather,completelyataloss.
“IthoughtI’dneverseeyouagain,”Gracewhispers,voicingourcollective
fear.
“Mom,I’mhere.”Iheartheconsternationinhisvoice.
“Idiedathousanddeathstoday,”shewhispers,hervoicebarelyaudible,
echoingmythoughts.Shegaspsandsobs,nolongerabletoholdbackher
tears.Christianfrowns,horrifiedormortified—Idon’tknowwhich—then
afterabeat,envelopsherinahugehug,holdingherclose.
“Oh,Christian,”shechokes,wrappingherarmsaroundhim,weepingintohis
neck—
allself-restraintforgotten—andChristiandoesn’tbalk.Hejustholdsher,
rockingtoandfro,comfortingher.Scaldingtearspoolinmyeyes.Carrick
hollersfromthehallway.
“He’salive!Shit—you’rehere!”HeappearsfromTaylor’soffice,clutching
hiscellphone,andembracesbothofthem,hiseyesclosedinsweetrelief.
“Dad?”
Miasquealssomethingunintelligiblefrombesideme,thenshe’sup,running,
joiningherparents,huggingallofthem,too.
Finallythetearsstarttocascadedownmycheeks.He’shere,he’sfine.ButI
cannotmove.
Carrickisthefirsttopullaway,wipinghiseyesandclappingChristianonthe
shoulder.
MiareleasesthemandGracestepsback.
“Sorry,”shemumbles.
“Hey,Mom—it’sokay,”Christiansays,consternationstillevidentonhisface.
“Wherewereyou?Whathappened?”Gracecriesandputsherheadinher
hands.
“Mom,”Christianmutters.Hedrawsherintohisarmsagainandkissesthe
topofherhead.“I’mhere.I’mgood.It’sjusttakenmeahellofalongtimeto
getbackfromPortland.
What’swiththewelcomingcommittee?”Helooksupandscanstheroom
untilhiseyeslockwithmine.
HeblinksandglancesbrieflyatJosé,wholetsgoofmyhand.Christian’s
mouthtightens.Idrinkinthesightofhimandreliefcoursesthroughme,
leavingmespent,exhausted,andcompletelyelated.Yetmytearsdon’tstop.
Christianturnshisattentionbacktohismother.
“Mom,I’mgood.What’swrong?”Christiansaysreassuringly.Sheplacesher
handsoneithersideofhisface.
“Christian,you’vebeenmissing.Yourflightplan—younevermadeitto
Seattle.Whydidn’tyoucontactus?”
Christian’seyebrowsshootupinsurprise.“Ididn’tthinkitwouldtakethis
long.”
“Whydidn’tyoucall?”
“Nopowerinmycell.”
“Youdidn’tstop…callcollect?”
“Mom—it’salongstory.”
“Oh,Christian!Don’tyoueverdothattomeagain!Doyouunderstand?”she
halfshoutsathim.
“Yes,Mom.”Hewipeshertearsawaywithhisthumbandhugsheronce
more.Whenshecomposesherself,hereleaseshertohugMia,whoslapshim
hardonthechest.
“Youhadussoworried!”sheblurtsout,andshe,too,isintears.
“I’mherenow,forheaven’ssake,”Christianmutters.
AsElliotcomesforward,ChristianrelinquishesMiatoCarrick,whoalready
hasonearmaroundhiswife.Hecurlstheotheraroundhisdaughter.Elliot
hugsChristianbriefly,muchtoChristian’ssurprise,andslapshimhardonthe
back.
“Greattoseeyou.”Elliotsaysloudly,ifalittlegruffly,tryingtohidehis
emotion.
Asthetearsstreamdownmyface,Icanseeitall.Thegreatroomisbathedin
it—unconditionallove.Hehasitinspades;he’sjustneveraccepteditbefore,
andevennowhe’satatotalloss.
Look,Christian,allthesepeopleloveyou!Perhapsnowyou’llstartbelieving
it.
Kateisstandingbehindme—shemusthavelefttheTVroom—andshegently
strokesmyhair.
“He’sreallyhere,Ana,”shemurmurscomfortingly.
“I’mgoingtosayhitomygirlnow,”Christiantellshisparents.Bothnod,
smile,andstepaside.
Hemovestowardme,greyeyesbrightthoughwearyandstillbemused.From
somewheredeepinside,Ifindthestrengthtostaggertomyfeetandboltinto
hisopenarms.
“Christian!”Isob.
“Hush,”hesaysandholdsme,buryinghisfaceinmyhairandinhaling
deeply.Iraisemytear-stainedfacetohis,andhekissesmefartoobriefly.
“Hi,”hemurmurs.
“Hi,”Iwhisperback,thelumpinthebackofmythroatburning.
“Missme?”
“Abit.”
Hegrins.“Icantell.”Andwithagentletouchofhishand,hewipesawaythe
tearsthatrefusetostoprunningdownmycheeks.
“Ithought…Ithought—”Ichoke.
“Icansee.Hush…I’mhere.I’msorry.Later,”hemurmursandkissesme
chastelyagain.
“Areyouokay?”Iask,releasinghimandtouchinghischest,hisarms,his
waist—oh,thefeelofthiswarm,vital,sensualmanbeneathmyfingers—
reassuresmethathe’shere,standinginfrontofme.He’sback.Hedoesn’tso
muchasflinch.Hejustregardsmeintently.
“I’mokay.I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
“Oh,thankGod,”Iclasphimroundhiswaistagain,andhehugsmeonce
more.“Areyouhungry?Doyouneedsomethingtodrink?”
“Yes.”
Istepbacktofetchhimsomething,buthedoesn’tletmego.Hetucksme
underhisarmandextendsahandtoJosé.
“Mr.Grey,”saysJoséevenly.
Christiansnorts.“Christian,please,”hesays.
“Christian,welcomeback.Gladyou’reokay…andum—thanksforletting
mestay.”
“Noproblem.”Christiannarrowshiseyes,buthe’sdistractedbyMrs.Jones,
whoissuddenlyathisside.Itonlyoccurstomenowthatshe’snotherusual
smartself.Ihadn’tnoticeditbefore.Herhairisloose,andshe’sinsoftgrey
leggingsandalargegreysweat-shirtthatdwarfsherwithWSUCougars
emblazonedonthefront.Shelooksyearsyounger.
“CanIgetyousomething,Mr.Grey?”Shewipeshereyeswithatissue.
Christiansmilesfondlyather.“Abeer,please,Gail—Budvar—andabiteto
eat.”
“I’llfetchit,”Imurmur,wantingtodosomethingformyman.
“No.Don’tgo,”hesayssoftly,tighteninghisarmaroundme.
Therestofhisfamilyclosein,andEthanandKatejoinus.HeshakesEthan’s
handandgivesKateaquickpeckonthecheek.Mrs.Jonesreturnswitha
bottleofbeerandaglass.
Hetakesthebottlebutshakeshisheadattheglass.Shesmilesandreturnsto
thekitchen.
“Surprisedyoudon’twantsomethingstronger,”muttersElliot.“Sowhatthe
fuckhappenedtoyou?FirstIknewwaswhenDadcalledmetosaythe
chopperwasmissing.”
“Elliot!”Gracescolds.
“Helicopter,”Christiangrowls,correctingElliot,whogrins,andIsuspectthis
isafamilyjoke.
“Let’ssitandI’lltellyou.”Christianpullsmeovertothecouch,and
everyonesitsdown,alleyesonChristian.Hetakesalongdraftofhisbeer.He
spiesTaylorhoveringattheentranceandnods.Taylornodsback.
“Yourdaughter?”
“She’sfinenow.Falsealarm,sir.”
“Good.”Christiansmiles.
Daughter?WhathappenedtoTaylor’sdaughter?
“Gladyou’reback,sir.Willthatbeall?”
“Wehaveahelicoptertocollect.”
Taylornods.“Now?Orwillthemorningdo?”
“Morning,Ithink,Taylor.”
“Verygood,Mr.Grey.Anythingelse,sir?”
Christianshakeshisheadandraiseshisbottletohim.Taylorgiveshimarare
smile—rarerthanChristian’s,Ithink—andheadsoutpresumablytohis
officeoruptohisroom.
“Christian,whathappened?”Carrickdemands.
Christianlaunchesintohisstory.HewasflyingwithRos,hisnumbertwoin
CharlieTangotodealwithafundingissueatWSUinVancouver.Icanbarely
keepupI’msodazed.IjustholdChristian’shandandstareathismanicured
fingernails,hislongfingers,thecreasesonhisknuckles,hiswristwatch—an
Omegawiththreesmalldials.Igazeupathisbeautifulprofileashecontinues
histale.
“RoshadneverseenMountSt.Helens,soonthewaybackasacelebration,
wetookaquickdetour.IheardtheTFRwasliftedawhilebackandIwanted
totakealook.Well,it’sfortunatethatwedid.Wewereflyinglow,abouttwo
hundredfeetAGL,whentheinstrumentpanellitup.Wehadafireinthetail
—Ihadnochoicebuttocutalltheelectronicsandland.”Heshakeshishead.
“IsetherdownbySilverLake,gotRosout,andmanagedtoputthefireout.”
“Afire?Bothengines?”Carrickishorrified.
“Yep.”
“Shit!ButIthought.”
“Iknow,”Christianinterruptshim.“ItwassheerluckIwasflyingsolow,”he
murmurs.Ishudder.Hereleasesmyhandandputshisarmaroundme.
“Cold?”heasksme.Ishakemyhead.
“Howdidyouputoutthefire?”asksKate,herCarlaBernsteininstincts
kickingin.
Jeez,shesoundstersesometimes.
“Extinguisher.Wehavetocarrythem—bylaw.”Christiananswerslevelly.
Hiswordsfromlongagocirclemymind.“Ithankdivineprovidenceevery
daythatitwasyouthatcametointerviewmeandnotKatherineKavanagh.”
“Whydidn’tyoucallorusetheradio?”Graceasks.
Christianshakeshishead.“Withtheelectronicsout,wehadnoradio.AndI
wasn’tgoingtoriskturningthemonbecauseofthefire.GPSwasstill
workingontheBlackberry,soIwasabletonavigatetothenearestroad.Took
usfourhourstowalkthere.Roswasinheels.”Christian’smouthpressesinto
adisapprovingflatline.
“Wehadnocellreception.There’snocoverageatGifford.Ros’sbatterydied
first.
Minedriedupontheway.”
Holyhell.ItenseandChristianpullsmeintohislap.
“SohowdidyougetbacktoSeattle?”Graceasks,blinkingslightlyatthe
sightofthetwoofus,nodoubt.Iflush.
“Wehitchedandpooledourresources.Betweenus,RosandIhadsixhundred
dollars,andwethoughtwe’dhavetobribesomeonetodriveusback,buta
truckdriverstoppedandagreedtobringushome.Herefusedthemoneyand
sharedhislunchwithus.”Christianshakeshisheadindismayatthememory.
“Tookforever.Hedidn’thaveacell—weird,buttrue.Ididn’trealize.”He
stops,gazingathisfamily.
“Thatwe’dworry?”Gracescoffs.“Oh,Christian!”shescoldshim.“We’ve
beengoingoutofourminds!”
“You’vemadethenews,bro.”
Christianrollshiseyes.“Yeah.IfiguredthatmuchwhenIarrivedtothis
receptionandthehandfulofphotographersoutside.I’msorry,Mom—I
shouldhaveaskedthedrivertostopsoIcouldphone.ButIwasanxioustobe
back.”HeglancesatJosé.
Oh,that’swhy,becauseJoséisstayinghere.Ifrownatthethought.Jeez—all
thatworry.
Graceshakesherhead.“I’mjustgladyou’rebackinonepiece,darling.”
Istarttorelax,restingmyheadagainsthischest.Hesmellsoutdoorsy,
slightlysweaty,ofbodywash,andChristian,themostwelcomescentinthe
world.Tearsstarttotrickledownmyfaceagain,tearsofgratitude.
“Bothengines?”Carricksaysagain,frowningindisbelief.
“Gofigure.”Christianshrugsandrunshishanddownmyback.
“Hey,”hewhispers.Heputshisfingersundermychinandtiltsmyheadback.
“Stopwiththecrying.”
Iwipemynosewiththebackofmyhandinamostunladylikeway.“Stop
withthedisappearing.”Isniffandhislipsquirkup.
“Electricalfailure…that’sodd,surely?”Carricksaysagain.
“Yes,crossedmymind,too,Dad.Butrightnow,I’djustliketogotobedand
thinkaboutallthatshittomorrow.”
“SothemediaknowthattheChristianGreyhasbeenfoundsafeandwell?”
Katesays.
“Yes.AndreaandmyPRpeoplewilldealwiththemedia.Roscalledherafter
wedroppedherhome.”
“Yes,Andreacalledmetoletmeknowyouwerestillalive.”Carrickgrins.
“Imustgivethatwomanaraise.Sureislate,”saysChristian.
“Ithinkthat’sahint,ladiesandgentlemen,thatmydearbroneedshisbeauty
sleep,”
Elliotscoffssuggestively.Christiangrimacesathim.
“Cary,mysonissafe.Youcantakemehomenow.”
Cary?Gracelooksadoringlyatherhusband.
“Yes.Ithinkwecouldusethesleep,”Carrickrepliessmilingdownather.
“Stay,”Christianoffers.
“No,sweetheart,Iwanttogethome.NowthatIknowyou’resafe.”
Christianreluctantlyeasesmeontothecouchandstands.Gracehugshim
oncemore,pressesherheadagainsthischestandcloseshereyes,content.He
wrapshisarmsaroundher.“Iwassoworried,darling,”shewhispers.
“I’mokay,Mom.”
Sheleansbackandstudieshimintentlywhileheholdsher.“Yes.Ithinkyou
are,”shesaysslowly,glancesatme,andsmiles.Iflush.
WefollowCarrickandGraceastheymaketheirwaytothefoyer.Behindme,
I’mawarethatMiaandEthanarehavingaheatedwhisperedconversation,
butIcan’thearit.
MiaissmilingshylyatEthan,andhe’sgapingatherandshakinghishead.
Suddenly,shefoldsherarmsandturnsonherheel.Herubshisforeheadwith
onehand,obviouslyfrustrated.
“Mom,Dad—waitforme,”Miacallssullenly.Perhapsshe’sasmercurialas
herbrother.Katehugsmehard.“Icantellsomeseriousshit’sbeengoing
downwhileI’vebeenblissfullyignorantinBarbados.It’skindofobviousyou
twoarenutsabouteachother.I’mgladhe’ssafe.Notjustforhim,Ana—for
you,too.”
“Thankyou,Kate,”Iwhisper.
“Yeah.Whoknewwe’dfindloveatthesametime?”Shegrins.Wow.She’s
admittedit.
“Withbrothers!”Igiggle.
“Wecouldendupsisters-in-law,”shequips.
Itense,thenmentallykickmyselfasKatestandsbacktogazeatmewithher
what-aren’t-you-telling-me-Steelelook.Iflush.Damn,shouldItellherhe’s
askedme?
“Comeon,baby,”Elliotsummonsherfromtheelevator.
“Let’stalktomorrow,Ana.Youmustbeexhausted.”
Iamreprieved.“Sure.You,too,Kate—you’vetravelledlongdistancetoday.”
Wehugoncemore,thensheandElliotfollowtheGreysintotheelevator.
EthanshakesChristian’shandandgivesmeaquickhug.Helooksdistracted,
buthefollowsthemintotheelevatorandthedoorsclose.
Joséishoveringinthehallwayaswecomeoutofthefoyer.
“Look.I’llturnin…leaveyouguys,”hesays.
Iblush.Jeez,whyisthisawkward?
“Doyouknowwheretogo?”Christianasks.
Josénods.
“Yeah,thehousekeeper—”
“Mrs.Jones,”Iprompt.
“Yeah,Mrs.Jones,sheshowedmeearlier.Quiteaplaceyouhavehere,
Christian.”
“Thankyou,”Christiansayspolitelyashecomestostandbesideme,placing
hisarmaroundmyshoulders.Leaningover,hekissesmyhair.
“I’mgoingtoeatwhateverMrs.Joneshasputoutforme.Goodnight,José.”
Christianwandersbackintothegreatroom,leavingJoséandmeatthe
entrance.
Wow!LeftalonewithJosé.
“Well,goodnight.”Josélooksuncomfortableallofasudden.
“Goodnight,José,andthankyouforstaying.”
“Sure,Ana.Anytimeyourrich,hotshotboyfriendgoesmissing—I’llbe
there.”
“José!”Iadmonishhim.
“Onlykidding.Don’tgetmad.I’llbeleavingearlyinthemorning—I’llsee
yousometime,yeah?I’vemissedyou.”
“Sure,José.SoonIhope.Sorrytonightwasso…shitty.”Ismirk
apologetically.
“Yeah.”Hegrins.“Shitty.”Hehugsme.“Seriously,Ana,I’mgladyou’re
happy,butI’mhereifyouneedme.”
Igazeupathim.“Thankyou.”
Heflashesmeasad,bittersweetsmile,andthenhegoesupstairs.
Iturnbacktothegreatroom.Christianstandsbesidethecouch,watchingme
withanunreadableexpressiononhisface.We’refinallyaloneandwegazeat
eachother.
“He’sstillgotitbad,youknow,”hemurmurs.
“Andhowwouldyouknowthat,Mr.Grey?”
“Irecognizethesymptoms,MissSteele.IbelieveIhavethesameaffliction.”
“IthoughtI’dneverseeyouagain,”Iwhisper.There—thewordsareout.All
myworstfearspackagedneatlyinoneshortsentencenowexorcised.
“Itwasn’tasbadasitsounds.”
Ipickuphissuitjacketandshoesfromwheretheylieonthefloorandmove
towardhim.“I’lltakethat,”hewhispers,reachingforhisjacket.
ChristiangazesdownatmeasifI’mhisreasonforlivingandmirrorsmy
look,I’msure.Heishere,reallyhere.Hepullsmeintohisarmsandwraps
himselfaroundme.
“Christian,”Igasp,andmytearsstartanew.
“Hush,”hesoothes,kissingmyhair.“Youknow…inthefewsecondsof
sheerterrorbeforeIlanded,allmythoughtswereofyou.You’remytalisman,
Ana.”
“IthoughtI’dlostyou,”Ibreathe.Westand,holdingeachother,reconnecting
andreassuringeachother.AsItightenmyarmsaroundhim,IrealizeI’mstill
holdinghisshoes.Idropthemnoisilytothefloor.
“Comeandshowerwithme,”hemurmurs.
“Okay.”Iglanceupathim.Idon’twanttoletgo.Reachingdownhetiltsmy
chinupwithhisfingers.
“Youknoweventear-stained,youarebeautiful,AnaSteele.”Heleansdown
andkissesmegently.“Andyourlipsaresosoft.”Hekissesmeagain,
deepeningit.
Ohmy…andtothink,Icouldhavelost…no…Istopthinkingandsurrender
myself.
“Ineedtoputmyjacketdown,”hemurmurs.
“Dropit,”Imurmuragainsthislips.
“Ican’t.”
Ileanbacktogazeupathim,puzzled.
Hesmirksatme.“Thisiswhy.”Fromtheinsidebreastpockethepullsoutthe
smallboxIgavehim,containingmypresent.Heslingsthejacketoverthe
backofthecouchandplacestheboxontop.
Seizetheday,Ana,mysubconsciousprodsme.Well,it’saftermidnight,so
technicallyit’shisbirthday.
“Openit,”Iwhisper,andmyheartstartspounding.
“Iwashopingyou’dsaythat,”hemurmurs.“Thishasbeendrivingme
crazy.”
Igrinimpishlyathim.Jeez,Ifeelgiddy.Hegivesmehisshysmile,andI
meltdespitemythumpingheart,delightinginhisamusedyetintrigued
expression.Withdeftlongfingers,heunwrapsandopensthebox.Hisbrow
creasesashefishesoutasmall,rectangular,plastickeychainbearingapicture
madeupoftinypixelsthatflashonandofflikeanLED
screen.ItdepictstheSeattleskyline,focusingontheSpaceNeedle,withthe
wordSE-ATTLEwrittenboldlyacrossthelandscape,flashingonandoff.
Hestaresatitforamomentandthengazesatmebemused,afrownmarring
hislovelybrow.“Turnitover,”Iwhisper,holdingmybreath.
Hedoes,andhiseyesshoottomine,wideandgrey,alivewithwonderand
joy.Hislipspartindisbelief.
Thewordyesflashesonandoffonthekeyring.
“Happybirthday,”Iwhisper.
“You’llmarryme?”hewhispers,incredulous.
Inodnervously,flushingandanxiousandnotquitebelievinghisreaction—
thismanwhomIthoughtI’dlost.HowcouldhenotunderstandhowmuchI
lovehim?
“Sayit,”heorderssoftly,hisgazeintenseandhot.
“Yes,I’llmarryyou.”
Heinhalessharplyandmovessuddenly,grabbingmeandswingingmeround
inamostun-Fiftylikemanner.He’slaughing,youngandcarefree,radiating
joyfulelation.Igrabhisarmstoholdon,feelinghismusclesripplebeneath
myfingers,andhisinfectiouslaughtersweepsmeup—dizzy,addled,agirl
totallyandutterlysmittenwithherbeautifulman.Heputsmedownand
kissesme.Hard.Hishandsareoneithersideofmyface,histongueinsistent,
persuasive…arousing.
“Oh,Ana,”hebreathesagainstmylips,andit’sanexultationthatleavesme
reeling.
Helovesme,ofthatIhavenodoubt,andIsavourthetasteofthisdelicious
man,thismanIthoughtImightneverseeagain.Hisjoyisevident—hiseyes
shining,hisyouthfulsmile—
andhisreliefisalmostpalpable.
“IthoughtI’dlostyou,”Imurmur,stilldazzledandbreathlessfromhiskiss.
“Baby,itwilltakemorethanamalfunctioning135tokeepmeawayfrom
you.”
“135?”
“CharlieTango.She’saEurocopter135,thesafestinitsclass.”Some
unnamedbutdarkemotioncrosseshisfacebriefly,distractingme.Whatisn’t
hesaying?BeforeIcanaskhim,hestillsandlooksdownatme,frowning,
andforamomentIthinkhe’sgoingtotellme.Iblinkupintohisspeculative
greyeyes.
“Waitaminute.YougavethistomebeforewesawFlynn,”hesays,holding
upthekeychain.Helooksalmosthorrified.
Ohdear,where’shegoingwiththis?Inod,keepingastraightface.
Hismouthdropsopen.
Ishrugapologetically.“IwantedyoutoknowthatwhateverFlynnsaid,it
wouldn’tmakeadifferencetome.”
Christianblinksatmeindisbelief.“Soallyesterdayevening,whenIwas
beggingyouforananswer,Ihaditalready?”He’sdismayed.Inodagain,
tryingdesperatelytogaugehisreaction.Hegazesatmeinstupefiedwonder,
butthennarrowshiseyesandhismouthtwistswithamusedirony.
“Allthatworry,”hewhispersominously.Igrinathimandshrugoncemore.
“Oh,don’ttryandgetcutewithme,MissSteele.Rightnow,Iwant…”He
runshishandthroughhishair,thenshakeshisheadandchangestack.
“Ican’tbelieveyouleftmehanging.”Hiswhisperislacedwithdisbelief.His
expressionalterssubtly,hiseyesgleamingwickedly,hismouthtwitchinginto
acarnalsmile.
Holyhell.Athrillrunsthroughme.What’shethinking?
“Ibelievesomeretributionisinorder,MissSteele,”hesayssoftly.
Retribution?Ohshit!Iknowhe’splaying—butItakeacautiousstepback
fromhimanyway.
Hegrins.“Isthatthegame?”hewhispers.“BecauseIwillcatchyou.”And
hiseyesburnwithabrightplayfulintensity.“Andyou’rebitingyourlip,”he
saysthreateningly.
Allofmyinsidestightenatonce.Ohmy.Myfuturehusbandwantstoplay.I
takeanotherstepback,thenturntorun—butinvain.Christiangrabsme,and
inoneeasyswoopwhileIsquealwithdelight,surprise,andshock.Hehoists
meoverhisshoulderandheadsdownthehall.
“Christian!”Ihiss,mindfulthatJoséisupstairs,thoughwhetherhecouldhear
usisdoubtful.Isteadymyselfbyclaspinghislowerback,thenonabrave
impulse,Iswathisbehind.Heswatsmerightback.
“Ow!”Iyelp.
“Showertime,”hedeclarestriumphantly.
“Putmedown!”Itryandfailtosounddisapproving.Mystruggleisfutile—
hisarmisfirmlyclampedovermythighs—andforsomereasonIcannotstop
giggling.
“Fondoftheseshoes?”heasksamusedasheopensthedoortohisbathroom.
“Ipreferthemtobetouchingthefloor.”Iattempttosnarlathim,butit’snot
veryeffectiveasIcan’tkeepthelaughteroutofmyvoice.
“Yourwishismycommand,MissSteele.”Withoutputtingmedown,heslips
offbothofmyshoesandletsthemclattertothetilefloor.Pausingbythe
vanity,heemptieshispockets—deadBlackberry,keys,wallet,thekeychain.I
canonlyimaginewhatIlooklikeinthemirrorfromthisangle.Whenhe’s
finished,hemarchesdirectlyintohisoverlargeshower.
“Christian!”Iscoldloudly—hisintentisnowclear.
Heswitchesthewateronatmax.Jeez!Arcticwaterspurtsovermybackside,
andIsqueal—thenstop,mindfuloncemorethatJoséisaboveus.It’scold
andI’mfullyclothed.
Thechillingwatersoaksintomydress,mypanties,andmybra.I’mdrenched
andIcannotstopgiggling.
“No!”Isqueal.“Putmedown!”Iswathimagain,harderthistime,and
Christianreleasesme,lettingmeslidedownhisnowsoakedbody.Hiswhite
shirtisstucktohischestandhissuitpantsaresodden.Iamsoaked,too,
flushed,giddyandbreathless,andhe’sgrinningdownatme,lookingso…so
unbelievablyhot.
Hesobers,hiseyesshining,andcupsmyfaceagain,drawingmylipstohis.
Hiskissisgentle,cherishing,andtotallydistracting.InolongercarethatIam
fullyclothedandsoakingwetinChristian’sshower.It’sjustthetwoofus
beneaththecascadingwater.He’sback,he’ssafe,he’smine.
Myhandsmoveinvoluntarilytohisshirtasitclingstoeverylineandsinew
ofhischest,revealingthehairscrunchedbeneaththewhitewetness.Iyank
theshirthemoutofhispants,andhegroansagainstmymouth,buthislipsdo
notleavemine.AsIunbuttonhisshirt,hereachesformyzipper,slowly
slidingtheclaspdownmydress.Hislipsbecomemoreinsistent,more
provocative,histongueinvadingmymouth—andmybodyexplodeswith
desire.Itughisshirthard,rippingitopen.Thebuttonsflyeverywhere,
ricochetingoffthetilesanddisappearingontotheshowerfloor.AsIstripthe
wetmaterialoffhisshouldersanddownhisarms,Ipresshimintothewall,
hamperinghisattemptstoundressme.“Cufflinks,”hemurmurs,holdingup
hiswristswherehisshirthangssoddenandlimp.
Withscramblingfingers,Ireleasefirstoneandthentheothercuff,lettinghis
goldcufflinksfallcarelesslytothetiledfloorandhisshirtfollows.Hiseyes
searchminethroughthecascadingwater,hisgazeburning,carnal,heatedlike
thewater.Ireachforthewaistbandofhispants,butheshakeshisheadand
grabsmyshoulders,spinningmeroundsoIamfacingawayfromhim.He
finishesthelongjourneysouthwithmyzipper,smoothesmywethairaway
frommyneck,andrunshistongueupmynecktomyhairlineandbackagain,
kissingandsuckingashegoes.
Imoanandslowlyhepeelsmydressoffmyshouldersanddownpastmy
breasts,kissingmyneckbeneathmyear.Heunclaspsmybraandpushesit
offmyshoulders,freeingmybreasts.Hishandsreacharoundandcupeach
oneashemurmurshisappreciationinmyear.
“Sobeautiful,”hewhispers.
Myarmsaretrappedbymybraanddress,whichhangunfastenedbelowmy
breasts,myarmsstillinthesleevesbutmyhandsarefree.Irollmyhead,
givingChristianbetteraccesstomyneckandpushmybreastsintohis
magicalhands.Ireachroundbehindmeandwelcomehissharpintakeof
breathasmyinquisitivefingersmakecontactwithhiserection.Hepusheshis
groinintomywelcominghands.Dammit,whydidn’theletmetakehispants
off?
Hetugsonmynipples,andastheyhardenandstretchunderhisexperttouch,
allthoughtsofhispantsdisappearandpleasurespikessharpandlibidinousin
mybelly.Ileanmyheadbackagainsthimandgroan.
“Yes,”hebreathesandturnsmeoncemore,capturingmymouthwithhis.He
peelsmybra,dressandpantiesdownsotheyjoinhisshirtinasoggyheapon
theshowerfloor.
Igrabthebodywashbesideus.ChristianstillsasherealizeswhatIamabout
todo.
Staringhimstraightintheeye,Isquirtsomeofthesweet-smellinggelinto
mypalmandholdmyhandupinfrontofhischest,waitingforananswerto
myunspokenquestion.Hiseyeswiden,thenhegivesmeanalmost
imperceptiblenod.
GentlyIplacemyhandonhissternumandstarttorubthesoapintohisskin.
Hischestrisesasheinhalessharply,buthestandsstock-still.Afterabeat,his
handsclaspmyhips,buthedoesn’tpushmeaway.Hewatchesmewarily,his
lookintensemorethanscared,buthislipsarepartedashisbreathing
increases.
“Isthisokay?”Iwhisper.
“Yes.”Hisshort,breathyreplyisalmostagasp.Iamremindedofthemany
showerswe’vehadtogether,buttheoneattheOlympicisabittersweet
memory.Well,nowIcantouchhim.Iwashhimusinggentlecircles,cleaning
myman,movingtohisunderarms,overhisribs,downhisflatfirmbelly,
towardhishappytrail,andthewaistbandofhispants.
“Myturn,”hewhispersandreachesfortheshampoo,shiftingusoutofrange
ofthestreamofwaterandsquirtingsomeontothetopofmyhead.
Ithinkthisismycuetostopwashinghim,soIhookmyfingersintohis
waistband.Heworkstheshampoointomyhair,hisfirm,longfingers
massagingmyscalp.Groaninginappreciation,Iclosemyeyesandgive
myselfovertotheheavenlysensation.Afterallthestressoftheevening,this
isjustwhatIneed.
HechucklesandIopenoneeyetofindhimsmilingdownatme.“Youlike?”
“Hmm…”
Hegrins.“Me,too,”hesaysandleansovertokissmyforehead,hisfingers
continuingtheirsweet,firmkneadingofmyscalp.
“Turnround,”hesaysauthoritatively.IdoasI’mtold,andhisfingersslowly
workovermyhead,cleansing,relaxing,lovingmeastheygo.Oh,thisis
bliss.Hereachesformoreshampooandgentlywashesthelongtressesdown
myback.Whenhe’sfinished,hepullsmebackundertheshower.
“Leanyourheadback,”heordersquietly.
Iwillinglycomply,andhecarefullyrinsesoutthesuds.Whenhe’sdone,I
facehimoncemoreandmakeabeelineforhispants.
“Iwanttowashallofyou,”
Iwhisper.Hesmilesthatlopsidedsmileandliftshishandsinagesturethat
says“I’mallyours,baby.”Igrin;itfeelslikeChristmas.Imakeshortworkof
hiszipper,andsoonhispantsandboxersjointherestofourclothing.Istand
andreachforthebodywashandthefreshwatersponge.
“Lookslikeyou’repleasedtoseeme,”Imurmurdryly.
“I’malwayspleasedtoseeyou,MissSteele.”Hesmirksatme.
Isoapthesponge,thenretracemyjourneyoverhischest.He’smorerelaxed
—maybebecauseI’mnotactuallytouchinghim.Iheadsouthwiththe
sponge,acrosshisbelly,alongthehappytrail,throughhispubichair,and
overanduphiserection.
Ipeekupathim,andheregardsmewithhoodedeyesandsensuallonging.
Hmm…Ilikethislook.Idropthespongeandusemyhands,graspinghim
firmly.Hecloseshiseyes,tipshisheadback,andgroans,thrustinghiships
intomyhands.
Ohyes!It’ssoarousing.Myinnergoddesshasresurfacedafterhereveningof
rockingandweepinginthecorner,andshe’swearingharlot-redlipstick.
Hisburningeyessuddenlylockwithmine.He’srememberedsomething.
“It’sSaturday,”heexclaims,eyesalightwithsalaciouswonder,andhegrasps
mywaist,pullingmetohimandkissingmesavagely.
Whoa—changeofpace!
Hishandssweepdownmyslick,wetbody,roundtomysex,hisfingers
exploring,teasing,andhismouthisrelentless,leavingmebreathless.His
otherhandisinmywethair,holdingmeinplacewhileIbearthefullforceof
hispassionunleashed.Hisfingersmoveinsideme.
“Ahh,”Imoanintohismouth.
“Yes,”hehissesandliftsme,hishandsbeneathmybackside.“Wrapyourlegs
aroundme,baby.”Mylegsfoldaroundhim,andIclinglikealimpettohis
neck.Hebracesmeagainstthewalloftheshowerandpauses,gazingdownat
me.
“Eyesopen,”hemurmurs.“Iwanttoseeyou.”
Iblinkupathim,myhearthammering,mybloodpulsinghotandheavy
throughmybody,desire,realandrampantsurgingthroughme.Thenheeases
intomeoh-so-slowly,fillingme,claimingme,skinagainstskin.Ipushdown
againsthimandgroanloudly.Oncefullyinsideme,hepausesoncemore,his
facestrained,intense.
“Youaremine,Anastasia,”hewhispers.
“Always.”
Hesmilesvictoriouslyandshifts,makingmegasp.
“Andnowwecanleteveryoneknow,becauseyousaidyes.”Hisvoiceis
reverential,andheleansdown,capturingmymouthwithhis,andstartsto
move…slowandsweet.Iclosemyeyesandtiltmyheadbackasmybody
bows,mywillsubmittingtohis,slavetohisintoxicatingslowrhythm.
Histeethgrazemyjaw,mychin,anddownmyneckashepicksupthepace,
pushingmeonward,upward—awayfromthisearthlyplane,theteeming
shower,theevening’schillingfright.It’sjustmeandmymanmovingin
unison,movingasone—eachcompletelyabsorbedintheother—ourgasps
andgruntsmingling.Irevelintheexquisitefeelingofhispossessionasmy
bodybloomsandflowersaroundhim.
Icouldhavelosthim…andIlovehim…Ilovehimsomuch,andI’m
suddenlyovercomebytheenormityofmyloveandthedepthofmy
commitmenttohim.Iwillspendtherestofmylifelovingthisman,andwith
thatawe-inspiringthought,Idetonatearoundhim—ahealing,cathartic
orgasm,cryingouthisnameastearsflowdownmycheeks.
Hereacheshisclimaxandpourshimselfintome.Withhisfaceburiedinmy
neck,hesinkstothefloor,holdingmetightly,kissingmyface,andkissing
awaymytearsasthewarmwaterspillsdownaroundus,washingusclean.
“Myfingersarepruny,”Imurmur,post-coitalandsatedasIleanagainsthis
chest.Heraisesmyfingerstohislipsandkisseseachinturn.
“Weshouldreallygetoutofthisshower.”
“I’mcomfortablehere.”I’msittingbetweenhislegsandhe’sholdingme
close.Idon’twanttomove.
Christianmurmurshisassent.ButsuddenlyI’mbonetired,world-weary.So
muchhashappenedthislastweek—enoughforalifetimeofdrama—andnow
I’mgettingmarried.Adisbelievinggiggleescapesmylips.
“Somethingamusingyou,MissSteele?”heasksfondly.
“It’sbeenabusyweek.”
Hegrins.“Thatithas.”
“IthankGodyou’rebackinonepiece,Mr.Grey,”Iwhisper,soberingatthe
thoughtofwhatmighthavebeen.HetensesandIimmediatelyregret
remindinghim.
“Iwasscared,”heconfessesmuchtomysurprise.
“Earlier?”
Henods,hisexpressionserious.
Holyshit.“Soyoumadelightofittoreassureyourfamily?”
“Yes.Iwastoolowtolandwell.ButsomehowIdid.”
Crap.Myeyessweepuptohis,andhelooksgraveasthewatercascadesover
us.“Howcloseacallwasit?”Hegazesdownatme.
“Close,”hepauses.“Forafewawfulseconds,IthoughtI’dneverseeyou
again.”
Ihughimtightly.“Ican’timaginemylifewithoutyou,Christian.Iloveyou
somuchitfrightensme.”
“Me,too,”hebreathes.“Mylifewouldbeemptywithoutyou.Iloveyouso
much.”
Hisarmstightenaroundmeandhenuzzlesmyhair.“Iwon’teverletyougo.”
“Idon’twanttogo,ever.”Ikisshisneck,andheleansdownandkissesme
gently.
Afteramoment,heshifts.“Come—let’sgetyoudryandintobed.I’m
exhaustedandyoulookbeat.”
Ileanbackandarchaneyebrowathischoiceofwords.Hecockshisheadto
onesideandsmirksatme.
“Youhavesomethingtosay,MissSteele?”
Ishakemyheadandclamberunsteadilytomyfeet.
Iamsittingupinbed.Christianinsistedondryingmyhair—he’squiteskilled
atit.Howthathappenedisanunpleasantthought,soIdismissitimmediately.
It’saftertwointhemorning,andIamreadytosleep.Christiangazesdownat
meandre-examinesthekeychainbeforeclimbingintobed.Heshakeshis
head,incredulousoncemore.
“Thisissoneat.ThebestbirthdaypresentI’veeverhad.”Heglancesatme,
hiseyessoftandwarm.“BetterthanmysignedGuiseppeDeNataleposter.”
“Iwouldhavetoldyouearlier,butasitwasyourbirthday…Whatdoyou
givethemanwhohaseverything?IthoughtI’dgiveyou…me.”
Heputsthekeychaindownonthebedsidetableandsnugglesinbesideme,
pullingmeintohisarmsagainsthischestsothatwe’respooning.
“It’sperfect.Likeyou.”
Ismirk,thoughhecan’tseemyexpression.“Iamfarfromperfect,Christian.”
“Areyousmirkingatme,MissSteele?”
Howdoesheknow?“Maybe.”Igiggle.“CanIaskyousomething?
“Ofcourse,”henuzzlesmyneck.
“Youdidn’tcallonyourtripbackfromPortland.Wasthatreallybecauseof
José?Youwereworriedaboutmebeingherealonewithhim?”
Christiansaysnothing.Iturntofacehim,andhiseyesarewideasIreproach
him.
“Doyouknowhowridiculousthatis?Howmuchstressyouputyourfamily
andmethrough?Weallloveyouverymuch.”
Heblinksacoupleoftimesandthengivesmehisshysmile.“Ihadnoidea
you’dallbesoworried.”
Ipursemylips.“Whenareyougoingtogetitthroughyourthickskullthat
youareloved?”
“Thickskull?”Hiseyebrowswideninsurprise.
Inod.“Yes.Thickskull.”
“Idon’tthinkthebonedensityofmyheadissignificantlyhigherthan
anywhereelseinmybody.”
“I’mserious!Stoptryingtomakemelaugh.Iamstillalittlemadatyou,
thoughthat’spartiallyeclipsedbythefactthatyou’rehomesafeandsound
whenIthought…”MyvoicefadesasIrecallthoseanxiousfewhours.“Well,
youknowwhatIthought.”
Hiseyessoftenandhereachesuptocaressmyface.“I’msorry.Okay.”
“Yourpoormom,too.Itwasverymoving,seeingyouwithher,”Iwhisper.
Hesmilesshyly.“I’veneverseenherthatway.”Heblinksatthememory.
“Yes,thatwasreallysomething.She’snormallysoself-possessed.Itwas
quiteashock.”
“See?Everyonelovesyou.”Ismile.“Perhapsnowyou’llstartbelievingit.”I
leandownandkisshimgently.
“Happybirthday,Christian.I’mgladyou’reheretoshareyourdaywithme.
Andyouhaven’tseenwhatI’vegotforyoutomorrowum…today.”Ismirk.
“There’smore?”hesays,astounded,andhisfaceeruptsintoabreath-taking
grin.
“Ohyes,Mr.Grey,butyou’llhavetowaituntilthen.”
Iwakesuddenlyfromadreamornightmare,andmypulseisthumping.Iturn,
panicked,andtomyrelief,Christianisfastasleepbesideme.BecauseI’ve
shifted,hestirsandreachesoutinhissleep,drapinghisarmoverme,and
restshisheadonmyshoulder,sighingsoftly.
Theroomisfloodedwithlight.It’seighto’clock.Christianneversleepsthis
late.Iliebackandletmyracingheartcalm.Whytheanxiety?Isitthe
aftermathoflastnight?
Iturnandstareathim.He’shere.He’ssafe.Itakeadeepsteadyingbreath
andgazeathislovelyface.Afacethatisnowsofamiliar,allitsdipsand
shadowseternallyetchedonmymind.
Helooksmuchyoungerwhenhe’sasleep,andIgrinbecausetodayhe’sa
wholeyearolder.Ihugmyself,thinkingaboutmypresent.Oooh…whatwill
hedo?PerhapsIshouldstartbybringinghimbreakfastinbed.Besides,José
maystillbehere.
IfindJoséatthecounter,eatingabowlofcereal.Ican’thelpbutflushwhenI
seehim.
HeknowsI’vespentthenightwithChristian.WhydoIsuddenlyfeelsoshy?
It’snotasifI’mnakedoranything.I’mwearingmysilkfloor-lengthwrap.
“Morning,José,”Ismile,brazeningitout.
“Hey,Ana!”Hisfacelightsup,genuinelypleasedtoseeme.There’snohint
ofteasingorsalaciouscontemptinhisexpression.
“Sleepwell?”Iask.
“Sure.Someviewfromuphere.”
“Yeah.It’sprettyspecial.”Liketheownerofthisapartment.“Wantareal
man’sbreakfast?”Itease.
“Lovesome.”
“It’sChristian’sbirthdaytoday—I’mmakinghimbreakfastinbed.”
“Heawake?”
“No,Ithinkhe’sfriedfromyesterday.”Iquicklyglanceawayfromhimand
headtothefridgesohecan’tseemyblush.Jeez,it’sonlyJosé.WhenItake
theeggsandbaconoutofthefridge,Joséisgrinningatme.
“Youreallylikehim,don’tyou?”
Ipursemylips.“Ilovehim,José.”
Hiseyeswidenmomentarilythenhegrins.“What’snottolove?”heasks
gesturingroundthegreatroom.
Iscowlathim.“Gee,thanks!”
“Hey,Ana,justkidding.”
Hmm…willIalwayshavethislevelledatme?ThatI’mmarryingChristian
forhismoney?
“Seriously,I’mkidding.You’veneverbeenthatkindofgirl.”
“Omelettegoodforyou?”Iask,changingthesubject.Idon’twanttoargue.
“Sure.”
“Andme,”Christiansaysashesauntersintothegreatroom.Holyfuck,he’s
wearingonlypyjamabottomsthathanginthattotallyhotwayoffhiships—
Jeez!
“José.”Henods.
“Christian.”Joséreturnshisnodsolemnly.
ChristianturnstomeandsmirksasIstare.He’sdonethisonpurpose.I
narrowmyeyesathim,desperatelytryingtorecovermyequilibrium,and
Christian’sexpressionalterssubtly.HeknowsthatIknowwhathe’supto,
andhedoesn’tcare.
“Iwasgoingtobringyoubreakfastinbed.”
Swaggeringover,hewrapshisarmaroundme,tiltsmychinup,andplantsa
loudwetkissonmylips.VeryunFifty!
“Goodmorning,Anastasia,”hesays.Iwanttoscowlathimandtellhimto
behave—
butit’shisbirthday.Iflush.Whyishesoterritorial?
“Goodmorning,Christian.Happybirthday.”Igivehimasmile,andhe
smirksatme.
“I’mlookingforwardtomyotherpresent,”hesaysandthat’sit.Iflushthe
colouroftheRedRoomofPainandglancenervouslyatJosé,wholookslike
he’sswallowedsomethingunpleasant.Iturnawayandstartpreparingthe
food.
“Sowhatareyourplanstoday,José?”Christianasks,seeminglycasualashe
sitsdownonabarstool.
“I’mheadinguptoseemydadandRay,Ana’sdad.”
Christianfrowns.
“Theyknoweachother?”
“Yeah,theywereinthearmytogether.TheylostcontactuntilAnaandIwere
incollegetogether.It’skindacute.They’rebestbudsnow.We’regoingona
fishingtrip.”
“Fishing?”Christianisgenuinelyinterested.
“Yeah—somegreatcatchesinthesecoastalwaters.Thesteelheadscangrow
waybig.”
“True.MybrotherElliotandIlandedathirty-fourpoundsteelheadonce.”
They’retalkingfishing?Whatisitaboutfishing?Ihaveneverunderstoodit.
“Thirty-fourpounds?Notbad.Ana’sfatherthough,heholdstherecord.A
forty-threepounder.”
“You’rekidding!Heneversaid.”
“Happybirthday,bytheway.”
“Thanks.So,wheredoyouliketofish?”
Izoneout.ThisIdonotneedtoknow.ButatthesametimeI’mrelieved.See,
Christian?José’snotsobad.
BythetimeJosémakestoleave,bothofthemaremuchmorerelaxedwith
eachother.
ChristianquicklychangesintoT-shirtandjeansandbarefootheaccompanies
Joséandmetothefoyer.
“Thanksforlettingmecrashhere,”JosésaystoChristianastheyshake
hands.
“Anytime,”Christiansmiles.
Joséhugsmequickly.“Staysafe,Ana.”
“Sure.Greattoseeyou.Nexttimewe’llhaveapropereveningout.”
“I’llholdyoutothat.”Hewavesatusfrominsidetheelevator,andthenhe’s
gone.
“See,he’snotsobad.”
“Hestillwantsintoyourpanties,Ana.Butcan’tsayIblamehim.”
“Christian,that’snottrue!”
“Youhavenoidea,doyou?”Hesmirksdownatme.“Hewantsyou.Big
time.”
Ifrown.“Christian,he’sjustafriend,agoodfriend.”AndI’msuddenly
awarethatIsoundlikeChristianwhenhe’stalkingaboutMrs.Robinson.The
thoughtisunsettling.
Christianholdsuphishandsinaplacatinggesture.
“Idon’twanttofight,”hesayssoftly.
Oh!We’renotfighting…arewe?“Meneither.”
“Youdidn’ttellhimweweregettingmarried.”
“No.IfiguredIoughttotellMomandRayfirst.”Shit.It’sthefirsttimeI’ve
thoughtaboutthissinceIsaidyes.Jeez—whataremyparentsgoingtosay?
Christiannods.“Yes,you’reright.AndI…um,Ishouldaskyourfather.”
Ilaugh.“Oh,Christian—thisisn’ttheeighteenthcentury.”
Holyshit.WhatwillRaysay?Thethoughtofthatconversationfillsmewith
horror.
“It’straditional.”Christianshrugs.
“Let’stalkaboutthatlater.Iwanttogiveyouyourotherpresent.”Myaimis
todistracthim.Thethoughtofmypresentisburningaholeinmy
consciousness.Ineedtogiveittohimandseehowhereacts.
Hegivesmehisshysmile,andmyheartskipsabeat.ForaslongasIlive,I’ll
nevertireoflookingatthatsmile.
“You’rebitingyourlip,”hesaysandpullsonmychin.
Athrillrunsthroughmybodyashisfingerstouchme.Withoutaword,and
whileIstillhaveamodicumofcourage,Itakehishandandleadhimbackto
thebedroom.Idrophishand,leavinghimstandingbythebed,andfrom
undermysideofthebed,Itakeoutthetworemaininggiftboxes.
“Two?”hesays,surprised.
Itakeadeepbreath.“Iboughtthisbeforethe,um…incidentyesterday.I’m
notsureaboutitnow.”IquicklyhandhimoneoftheparcelsbeforeIcan
changemymind.Hegazesatme,puzzled,sensingmyuncertainty.
“Sureyouwantmetoopenit?”
Inod,anxious.
Christiantearsoffthepackagingandgazesinsurpriseatthebox.
“CharlieTango,”Iwhisper.
Hegrins.Theboxcontainsasmallwoodenhelicopterwithalarge,solar-
poweredrotorblade.Heopensitup.
“Solarpowered,”hemurmurs.“Wow.”AndbeforeIknowithe’ssittingon
thebedassemblingit.Itsnapstogetherquickly,andChristianholdsitupin
thepalmofhishand.
Abluewoodenhelicopter.Helooksupatmeandgivesmehisglorious,all-
American-boysmile,thenheadstothewindowsothatthelittlehelicopteris
bathedinsunlightandtherotorstartstospin.
“Lookatthat,”hebreathes,examiningitclosely.“Whatwecanalreadydo
withthistechnology.”Heholdsitateyelevel,watchingthebladesspin.He’s
fascinatedandfascinatingtowatchasheloseshimselfinthought,staringat
thelittlehelicopter.Whatishethinking?
“Youlikeit?”
“Ana,Iloveit.Thankyou.”Hegrabsmeandkissesmeswiftly,thenturns
backtowatchtherotorspin.“I’lladdittothegliderinmyoffice,”hesays
distractedly,watchingthebladespin.Hemoveshishandoutofthesunlight,
andthebladeslowsdownandcomestoastop.
Ican’thelpmyface-splittinggrin,andIwanttohugmyself.Helovesit.Of
course,he’sallaboutalternativetechnologies.I’dforgottenthatinmyhaste
tobuyit.Placingitonthechestofdrawers,heturnstofaceme.
“It’llkeepmecompanywhilewesalvageCharlieTango.”
“Isitsalvageable?”
“Idon’tknow.Ihopeso.I’llmissher,otherwise.”
Her?IamshockedatmyselfforthesmallpangofjealousyIfeelforan
inanimateobject.Mysubconscioussnortswithderisorylaughter.Iignoreher.
“What’sintheotherbox?”heasks,hiseyeswidewithalmostchildish
excitement.
Holyfuck.“I’mnotsureifthispresentisforyouorme.”
“Really?”heasks,andIknowIhavepiquedhisinterest.NervouslyIhand
himthesecondbox.Heshakesitgentlyandwebothhearaheavyrattle.He
glancesupatme.
“Whyareyousonervous?”heasks,bemused.Ishrug,embarrassedand
excitedasIflush.Heraisesaneyebrowatme.
“Youhavemeintrigued,MissSteele,”hewhispers,andhisvoicerunsright
throughme,desireandanticipationspawninginmybelly.“IhavetosayI’m
enjoyingyourreaction.Whathaveyoubeenupto?”Henarrowshiseyes
speculatively.
Iremaintight-lippedasIholdmybreath.
Heremovesthelidoftheboxandtakesoutasmallcard.Therestofthe
contentsarewrappedintissue.Heopensthecard,andhiseyesdartquicklyto
mine—wideningwithshockorsurprise.Ijustdon’tknow.
“Dorudethingstoyou?”hemurmurs.Inodandswallow.Hecockshishead
toonesidewarily,assessingmyreaction,andfrowns.Thenturnshisattention
backtothebox.Hetearsthroughthepale-bluetissuepaperandfishesoutan
eyemask,somenippleclamps,abuttplug,hisiPod,hissilver-greytie—and
lastbutbynomeansleast—thekeytohisplayroom.
Hegazesatme,hisexpressiondark,unreadable.Ohshit.Isthisabadmove?
“Youwanttoplay?”heaskssoftly.
“Yes,”Ibreathe.
“Formybirthday?”
“Yes.”Couldmyvoicesoundanysmaller?
Amyriadofemotionscrosshisface,noneofwhichIcanplace,buthesettles
foranxious.Hmm…NotquitethereactionIwasexpecting.
“You’resure?”heasks.
“Notthewhipsandstuff.”
“Iunderstandthat.”
“Yes,then.I’msure.”
Heshakeshisheadandgazesdownatthecontentsofthebox.“Sexmadand
insatiable.
Well,Ithinkwecandosomethingwiththislot,”hemurmursalmostto
himself,thenputsthecontentsbackinthebox.Whenheglancesatmeagain,
hisexpressionhascompletelychanged.Holycow,hisgreyeyesburn,andhis
mouthliftsinasloweroticsmile.Heholdsouthishand.
“Now,”hesays,andit’snotarequest.Mybellyclenches,tightandhard,
deep,deepdown.
Iputmyhandinhis.
“Come,”heorders,andIfollowhimoutofthebedroom,myheartinmy
mouth.Desireracesslickandhotthroughmybloodasmyinsidestighten
withhungryanticipation.Myinnergoddesssomersaultsroundherchaise
longue.Finally!
Christianpausesoutsidetheplayroom.
“You’resureaboutthis?”heasks,hisgazeheatedyetanxious.
“Yes,”Imurmur,smilingshylyathim.
Hiseyessoften.“Anythingyoudon’twanttodo?”
I’mderailedbyhisunexpectedquestion,andmymindgoesintooverdrive.
Onethoughtoccurs.“Idon’twantyoutotakephotosofme.”
Hestills,andhisexpressionhardensashecockshisheadtoonesideandeyes
mespeculatively.
Ohshit.Ithinkhe’sgoingtoaskmewhy,butfortunatelyhedoesn’t.
“Okay,”hemurmurs.Hisbrowfurrowsasheunlocksthedoor,thenstands
asidetoushermeintotheroom.Ifeelhiseyesonmeashefollowsmeinside
andclosesthedoor.
Placingthegiftboxonthechestofdrawers,hetakesouttheiPod,switchesit
on,thenwavesatthemusiccentreonthewallsothatthesmokedglassdoors
glidesilentlyopen.
Hepressessomebuttons,andafteramoment,thesoundofasubwaytrain
echoesroundtheroom.Heturnsitdownsothattheslow,hypnoticelectronic
beatthatfollowsbecomesambient.Awomanstartstosing,Idon’tknowwho
sheisbuthervoiceissoftyetraspingandthebeatismeasured,deliberate…
erotic.Ohmy.It’smusictomakeloveto.
ChristianturnstofacemeasIstandinthemiddleoftheroom,myheart
pounding,mybloodsinginginmyveins,pulsing—orsoitfeels—intimeto
themusic’sseductivebeat.
HesaunterscasuallyovertomeandtugsonmychinsoI’mnolongerbiting
mylip.
“Whatdoyouwanttodo,Anastasia?”hemurmurs,plantingasoftchastekiss
atthecornerofmymouth,hisfingersstillgraspingmychin.
“It’syourbirthday.Whateveryouwant,”Iwhisper.Hetraceshisthumbalong
mylowerlip,hisbrowcreasedoncemore.
“AreweinherebecauseyouthinkIwanttobeinhere?”Hiswordsaresoftly
spoken,butheregardsmeintently.
“No,”Iwhisper.“Iwanttobeinhere,too.”
Hisgazedarkens,growingbolderasheassessesmyresponse.Afterwhat
seemsaneternity,hespeaks.
“Oh,therearesomanypossibilities,MissSteele.”Hisvoiceislow,excited.
“Butlet’sstartwithgettingyounaked.”Hepullsthesashofmyrobesothatit
fallsopen,revealingmysilknightdress,thenstepsbackandsitsnonchalantly
downonthearmofthechesterfieldcouch.
“Takeyourclothesoff.Slowly.”Hegivesmeasensual,challenginglook.
Iswallowcompulsively,pressingmythighstogether.I’malreadydamp
betweenmylegs.Myinnergoddessisstrippednakedandstandinginline,
readyandwaitingandbeggingmetoplaycatch-up.Ipulltherobeawayfrom
myshoulders,myeyesneverleavinghis,andshrug,lettingitfallbillowingto
thefloor.Hismesmerizinggreyeyesheat,andherunshisindexfingerover
hislipsashegazesatme.
Slippingthespaghettistrapsofmygownoffmyshoulders,Igazeathimfora
beat,thenreleasethem.Mynightdressskimsandripplessoftlydownmy
body,poolingatmyfeet.Iamnakedandpracticallypantingandoh-so-ready.
Christianpausesforamoment,andImarvelatthefranklycarnalappreciation
inhisexpression.Standingup,hemakeshiswayovertothechestandpicks
uphissilver-greytie—myfavouritetie.Hepullsitthroughhisfingersashe
turnsandstrollscasuallytowardme,asmileplayingonhislips.Whenhe
standsinfrontofme,Iexpecthimtoaskformyhands,buthedoesn’t.
“Ithinkyou’reunderdressed,MissSteele,”hemurmurs.Heplacesthetie
aroundmyneck,andslowlybutdexterouslytiesitinwhatIassumeisafine
Windsorknot.Ashetightenstheknot,hisfingersbrushthebaseofmythroat
andelectricityshootsthroughme,makingmegasp.Heleavesthewideendof
thetielong,longenoughsothetipskimsmypubichair.
“Youlookmightyfinenow,MissSteele,”hesaysandbendstokissmegently
onmylips.It’saswiftkiss,andIwantmore,desirespirallingwantonly
throughmybody.
“Whatshallwedowithyounow?”hesays,andthenpickingupthetie,he
yankssharplysothatI’mforcedforwardintohisarms.Hishandsdiveinto
myhairandpullmyheadback,andhereallykissesme,hard,histongue
unforgivingandmerciless.Oneofhishandsroamsfreelydownmybackto
cupmybehind.Whenhepullsaway,he’spantingtooandgazingdownatme,
hiseyesmoltengrey;andI’mleftwanting,gaspingforbreath,mywits
thoroughlyscattered.I’msuremylipswillbeswollenafterhissensual
assault.
“Turnaround,”heordersgentlyandIobey.Pullingmyhairfreeofthetie,he
quicklybraidsandsecuresit.Hetugsthebraidsomyheadtiltsup.
“Youhavebeautifulhair,Anastasia,”hemurmursandkissesmythroat,
sendingshiversrunningupanddownmyspine.“Youjusthavetosaystop.
Youknowthat,don’tyou?”
hewhispersagainstmythroat.
Inod,myeyesclosed,andrelishhislipsonme.Heturnsmeroundoncemore
andpicksuptheendofthetie.
“Come,”hesays,tugginggently,leadingmeovertothechestwheretherest
ofthebox’scontentsareondisplay.
“Anastasia,theseobjects.”Heholdsupthebuttplug.“Thisisasizetoobig.
Asananalvirgin,youdon’twanttostartwiththis.Wewanttostartwith
this.”Heholdsuphispinkyfinger,andIgasp,shocked.Fingers…there?He
smirksatme,andtheunpleasantthoughtoftheanalfistingmentionedinthe
contractcomestomind.
“Justfinger—singular,”hesayssoftlywiththatuncannyabilityhehastoread
mymind.Myeyesdarttohis.Howdoeshedothat?
“Theseclampsarevicious.”Heprodsthenippleclamps.“We’llusethese.”
Heplacesadifferentpairofclampsonthechest.Theylooklikegiantblack
hairpins,butwithlittlejetjewelshangingdown.“They’readjustable,”
Christianmurmurs,hisvoicelacedwithgentleconcern.
Iblinkupathim,wide-eyed.Christian,mysexualmentor.Heknowssomuch
moreaboutallthisthanIdo.I’llnevercatchup.Ifrown.Heknowsmorethan
meaboutmostthings…exceptcooking.
“Clear?”heasks.
“Yes,”Iwhisper,mymouthdry.“Areyougoingtotellmewhatyouintendto
do?”
“No.I’mmakingthisupasIgoalong.Thisisn’tascene,Ana.”
“HowshouldIbehave?”
Hisbrowcreases.“Howeveryouwantto.”
Oh!
“Wereyouexpectingmyalterego,Anastasia?”heasks,histonevaguely
mockingandbemusedatonce.Iblinkathim.
“Well,yes.Ilikehim,”Imurmur.Hesmileshisprivatesmileandreachesup
torunhisthumbdownmycheek.
“Doyounow,”hebreathesandrunshisthumbacrossmylowerlip.“I’myour
lover,Anastasia,notyourDom.Ilovetohearyourlaughandyourgirlish
giggle.Ilikeyourelaxedandhappy,likeyouareinJosé’sphotos.That’sthe
girlthatfellintomyoffice.That’sthegirlIfellinlovewith.”
Holycow.Mymouthdropsopen,andawelcomewarmthbloomsinmyheart.
It’sjoy—purejoy.
“Buthavingsaidallthat,Ialsoliketodorudethingstoyou,MissSteele;and
myalteregoknowsatrickortwo.So,doasyou’retoldandturnaround.”His
eyesglintwickedly,andthejoymovessharplysouth,seizingmetightlyand
grippingeverysinewbelowmywaist.IdoasI’mtold.Behindme,heopens
oneofthedrawersandamomentlaterhe’sinfrontofmeagain.
“Come,”heordersandtugsonthetie,leadingmetothetable.Aswewalk
pastthecouch,Inoticeforthefirsttimethatallthecaneshavevanished.It
distractsme.WeretheythereyesterdaywhenIcamein?Idon’tremember.
DidChristianmovethem?Mrs.Jones?
Christianinterruptsmytrainofthought.
“Iwantyoutokneeluponthis,”hesayswhenwe’reatthetable.
Oh,okay.Whatdoeshehaveinmind?Myinnergoddesscan’twaittofind
out—she’salreadyscissor-kickedontothetableandiswatchinghimwith
adoration.
Hegentlyliftsmeontothetable,andIfoldmylegsbeneathmeandkneelin
frontofhim,surprisedbymyowngrace.Nowweareeyetoeye.Herunshis
handsdownmythighs,graspsmyknees,andpullsmylegsapartandstands
directlyinfrontofme.Helooksveryserious,hiseyesdarker,hooded…
lustful.
“Armsbehindyourback.I’mgoingtocuffyou.”
Heproducessomeleathercuffsfromhisbackpocketandreachesaroundme.
Thisisit.Where’shegoingtotakemethistime?
Hisproximityisintoxicating.Thismanisgoingtobemyhusband.Canone
lustafterone’shusbandlikethis?Idon’trememberreadingaboutthat
anywhere.Ican’tresisthim,andIrunmypartedlipsalonghisjaw,feeling
thestubble,aheadycombinationofpricklyandsoft,undermytongue.He
stillsandcloseshiseyes.Hisbreathingfaltersandhepullsback.“Stop.Or
thiswillbeoverfarquickerthaneitherofuswants,”hewarns.Foramoment,
Ithinkhemightbeangrybutthenhesmiles,andhisheatedeyesarealight
withamusement.
“You’reirresistible,”Ipout.
“AmInow?”hesaysdryly.
Inod.
“Well—don’tdistractme,orI’llgagyou.”
“Ilikedistractingyou,”Iwhisper,lookingmulishlyathim,andhecockshis
eyebrowatme.
“Orspankyou.”
Oh!Itrytohidemysmile.Therewasatime,notverylongago,whenIwould
havebeensubduedbythisthreat.Iwouldneverhavehadthenervetokiss
him,unbidden,whilehewasinthisroom.Irealizenow,I’mnolonger
intimidatedbyhim.It’sarevelation.Igrinmischievously,andhesmirksat
me.
“Behave,”hegrowlsandstandsback,gazingatmeandslapstheleathercuffs
acrosshispalm.Andthewarningisthere,implicitinhisactions.Itryfor
contrite,andIthinkIsucceed.Heapproachesmeagain.
“That’sbetter,”hebreathesandleansbehindmeoncemorewiththecuffs.I
resisttouchinghimbutinhalehisgloriousChristianscent,stillfreshfromlast
night’sshower.
Hmm…Ishouldbottlethis.
Iexpecthimtocuffmywrists,butheattacheseachcuffabovemyelbows.It
makesmearchmyback,pushingmybreastsforward,thoughmyelbowsare
bynomeanstogether.
Whenhe’sfinished,hestandsbacktoadmireme.
“Feelokay?”heasks.It’snotthemostcomfortableofpositions,butI’mso
wiredwithanticipationtoseewherehe’sgoingwiththisthatInod,weakwith
wanting.
“Good.”Hepullsthemaskfromhisbackpocket.
“Ithinkyou’veseenenoughnow,”hemurmurs.Heslidesthemaskovermy
head,coveringmyeyes.Mybreathingspikes.Wow.Whyisnotbeingableto
seesoerotic?Iamhere,trussedupandkneelingonatable,waiting—sweet
anticipationhotandheavydeepinmybelly.Icanstillhear,though,andthe
melodicsteadybeatofthetrackcontinues.Itresonatesthroughmybody.I
hadn’tnoticedbefore.Hemusthaveitonrepeat.
Christianstepsaway.Whatishedoing?Hemovesbacktothechestand
opensadrawer,thenclosesitagain.Amomentlaterhe’sback,andIsense
himinfrontofme.There’sapungent,rich,muskyscentintheair.It’s
delicious,almostmouth-watering.
“Idon’twanttoruinmyfavouritetie,”hemurmurs.Itslowlyunravelsashe
undoesit.
Iinhalesharplyasthetailofthetietravelsupmybody,ticklingmeinits
wake.Ruinhistie?Ilistenacutelytodeterminewhathe’sgoingtodo.He’s
rubbinghishandstogether.
Hisknucklessuddenlybrushovermycheek,downtomyjawfollowingmy
jawline.
Mybodyleapstoattentionashistouchsendsadeliciousshiverthroughme.
Hishandflexesovermyneck,andit’sslickwithsweet-smellingoilsohis
handglidessmoothlydownmythroat,acrossmyclavicle,anduptomy
shoulder,hisfingerskneadinggentlyastheygo.Oh,I’mgettingamassage.
NotwhatIexpected.
Heplaceshisotherhandonmyothershoulderandbeginsanotherslow
teasingjourneyacrossmyclavicle.Igroansoftlyasheworkshiswaydown
towardmyincreasinglyachingbreasts,achingforhistouch.It’stantalizing.I
archmybodyfurtherintohisdefttouch,buthishandsglidetomysides,
slow,measured,intimetothebeatofthemusic,andstudiouslyavoidmy
breasts.Igroan,butIdon’tknowifit’sfrompleasureorfrustration.
“Youaresobeautiful,Ana,”hemurmurs,hisvoicelowandhusky,hismouth
nexttomyear.Hisnosefollowsalongmyjawashecontinuestomassageme
—beneathmybreasts,acrossmybelly,down…Hekissesmefleetinglyon
mylips,thenherunshisnosedownmyneck,mythroat.Holycow,I’monfire
…hisnearness,hishands,hiswords.
“Andsoonyou’llbemywifetohaveandtohold,”hewhispers.
Ohmy.
“Toloveandtocherish.”
Jeez.
“Withmybody,Iwillworshipyou.”
Itipmyheadbackandmoan.Hisfingersrunthroughmypubichair,overmy
sex,andherubsthepalmofhishandagainstmyclitoris.
“Mrs.Grey,”hewhispersashispalmworksagainstme.
Igroan.
“Yes,”hebreathesashispalmcontinuestoteaseme.“Openyourmouth.”
Mymouthisalreadyopenfrompanting.Iopenwider,andheslipsalarge
coolmetalobjectbetweenmylips.Shapedlikeanoversizedbaby’spacifier,it
hassmallgroovesorcarvings,andwhatfeelslikeachainattheend.It’sbig.
“Suck,”hecommandssoftly.“I’mgoingtoputthisinsideyou.”
Insideme?Insidemewhere?Myheartlurchesintomymouth.
“Suck,”herepeatsandhestopspalmingme.
No.Don’tstop,Iwanttoshout,butmymouthisfull.Hisoiledhandsglide
backupmybodyandfinallycupmyneglectedbreasts.
“Don’tstopsucking.”
Gentlyherollsmynipplesbetweenhisthumbsandforefingers,andthey
hardenandlengthenunderhisexperttouch,sendingsynapticwavesof
pleasureallthewaytomygroin.
“Youhavesuchbeautifulbreasts,Ana,”hemurmursandmynipplesharden
furtherinresponse.HemurmurshisapprovalandImoan.Hislipsmove
downfrommynecktowardonebreast,trailingsoftbitesandsucksoverand
over,downtowardmynipple,andsuddenlyIfeelthepinchoftheclamp.
“Ah!”Igarblemygroanthroughthedeviceinmymouth.Holycow,the
feelingisexquisite,raw,painful,pleasurable…oh—thepinch.Gently,he
lavestherestrainednipplewithhistongue,andashedoesso,heappliesthe
other.Thebiteofthesecondclampisequallyharsh…butjustasgood.I
groanloudly.
“Feelit,”hewhispers.
Oh,Ido.Ido.Ido.
“Givemethis.”Hetugsgentlyontheornatemetalpacifierinmymouth,and
Ireleaseit.Hishandsoncemoretraildownmybody,towardmysex.He’sre-
oiledhishands.Theyglidearoundtomybackside.
Igasp.What’shegoingtodo?Itenseuponmykneesasherunshisfingers
betweenmybuttocks.
“Hush,easy,”hebreathesclosetomyearandkissesmyneckashisfingers
strokeandteaseme.
What’shegoingtodo?Hisotherhandglidesdownmybellytomysex,
palmingmeoncemore.Heeaseshisfingersinsideme,andImoanloudly,
appreciatively.
“I’mgoingtoputthisinsideyou,”hemurmurs.“Nothere.”Hisfingerstrail
betweenmybuttocks,spreadingoil.“Buthere.”Hemoveshisfingersround
andround,inandout,hittingthefrontwallofmyvagina.Imoanandmy
restrainednipplesswell.
“Ah.”
“Hushnow.”Christianremoveshisfingersandslidestheobjectintome.He
cupsmyfaceandkissesme,hismouthinvadingmine,andIhearaveryfaint
click.Instantlythepluginsidemestartstovibrate—downthere!Igasp.The
feelingisextraordinary—beyondanythingI’vefeltbefore.
“Ah!”
“Easy,”Christiancalmsme,stiflingmygaspswithhismouth.Hishands
movedownandtugverygentlyontheclamps.Icryoutloudly.
“Christian,please!”
“Hush,baby.Hanginthere.”
Thisistoomuch—allthisoverstimulation,everywhere.Mybodystartsto
climb,andonmyknees,I’munabletocontrolthebuild-up.Ohmy…WillI
beabletohandlethis?
“Goodgirl,”hesoothes.
“Christian,”Ipant,soundingdesperateeventomyownears.
“Hush,feelit,Ana.Don’tbeafraid.”Hishandsarenowonmywaist,holding
me,butIcan’tconcentrateonhishands,what’sinsideme,andtheclamps,
too.Mybodyisbuilding,buildingtoanexplosion—withtherelentless
vibrationsandthesweet,sweettortureofmynipples.Holyhell.Itwillbetoo
intense.Hishandsmovefrommyhips,downandaround,slickandoiled,
touching,feeling,kneadingmyskin—kneadingmybehind.
“Sobeautiful,”hemurmursandsuddenlyhegentlypushesananointedfinger
insideme…there!Intomybackside.Fuck.Itfeelsalien,full,forbidden…
butoh…so…
good.Andhemovesslowly,easinginandout,whilehisteethgrazemy
upturnedchin.
“Sobeautiful,Ana.”
I’msuspendedhigh—highaboveawide,wideravine,andI’msoaringthen
fallinggiddilyatthesametime,plungingtotheEarth.Icanholdonnomore,
andIscreamasmybodyconvulsesandclimaxesattheoverwhelming
fullness.Asmybodyexplodes,I’mnothingbutsensation—everywhere.
Christianreleasesfirstoneandthentheotherclamp,causingmynipplesto
singwithasurgeofsweet,sweetpainfulfeeling,butit’soh-so-goodand
causingmyorgasm,thisorgasm,togoonandon.Hisfingerstayswhereitis,
gentlyeasinginandout.
“Argh!”Icryout,andChristianwrapshimselfaroundme,holdingme,asmy
bodycontinuestopulsemercilesslyinside.
“No!”Ishoutagain,pleading,andthistimehetugsthevibratoroutofme,
andhisfinger,too,asmybodycontinuestoconvulse.
Heunstrapsoneofthecuffssothatmyarmsfallforward.Myheadlollson
hisshoulder,andIamlost,losttoallthisoverwhelmingsensation.I’mall
shatteredbreath,exhausteddesireandsweet,welcomeoblivion.
Vaguely,I’mawarethatChristianliftsme,carriesmeovertothebed,and
laysmedownonthecoolsatinsheets.Afteramoment,hishands,stilloiled,
gentlyrubthebacksofmythighs,myknees,mycalves,andmyshoulders.I
feelthebeddipashestretchesoutbesideme.
Hepullsthemaskoff,butIdon’thavetheenergytoopenmyeyes.Finding
mybraidheundoesthehairtieandleansforward,kissingmesoftlyonmy
lips.Onlymyerraticbreathingdisturbsthesilenceintheroomandsteadiesas
IfloatgentlybacktoEarth.Themusichasstopped.
“Sobeautiful,”hemurmurs.
WhenIpersuadeoneeyetoopen,he’sgazingdownatme,smilingsoftly.
“Hi,”hesays.Imanageagruntinresponse,andhissmilebroadens.“Rude
enoughforyou?”
Inodandgivehimareluctantgrin.Jeez,anyruderandI’dhavetospankthe
pairofus.
“Ithinkyou’retryingtokillme,”Imutter.
“Deathbyorgasm.”Hesmirks.“Thereareworsewaystogo,”hesaysbut
thenfrownseversoslightlyasanunpleasantthoughtcrosseshismind.It
distressesme.Ireachupandcaresshisface.
“Youcankillmelikethisanytime,”Iwhisper.Inoticethathe’sgloriously
nakedandreadyforaction.Whenhetakesmyhandandkissesmyknuckles,I
leanupandcapturehisfacebetweenmyhandsandpullhismouthtomine.
Hekissesmebriefly,thenstops.
“ThisiswhatIwanttodo,”hemurmursandreachesbeneathhispillowfor
themusiccentreremote.Hepressesabuttonandthesoftstrainsofaguitar
echoroundthewalls.
“Iwanttomakelovetoyou,”hesaysgazingdownatme,hisgreyeyes
burningwithbright,lovingsincerity.Softlyinbackground,afamiliarvoice
startstosing“TheFirstTimeEverISawYourFace.”Andhislipsfindmine.
AsItightenaroundhim,findingmyreleaseoncemore,Christianunravelsin
myarms,hisheadthrownbackashecallsoutmyname.Heclaspsmetightly
tohischestaswesitnosetonoseinthemiddleofhisvastbed,meastride
him.Andinthismoment—thismomentofjoywiththismantothismusic—
theintensityofmyexperiencethismorninginherewithhimandallthathas
occurredduringthepastweekoverwhelmsmeanew,notjustphysicallybut
emotionally.Iamcompletelyovercomewithallthesefeelings.Iamso
deeply,deeplyinlovewithhim.ForthefirsttimeI’mofferedaglimmerof
understandingastohowhefeelsaboutmysafety.
RecallinghisclosecallwithCharlieTangoyesterday,Ishudderatthethought
andtearspoolinmyeyes.Ifanythingeverhappenedtohim—Ilovehimso.
Mytearsrununcheckeddownmycheeks.SomanysidesofChristian—his
sweet,gentlepersonaandhisrugged,Ican-do-what-I-fucking-well-like-to-
you-and-you’ll-come-like-a-trainDominantside—hisfiftyshades—allof
him.Allspectacular.Allmine.AndI’mawarewedon’tknoweachother
well,andwehaveamountainofissuestoovercome,butIknowforeach
other,wewill—andwe’llhavealifetimetodoit.
“Hey,”hebreathes,claspingmyheadinhishands,gazingdownatme.He’s
stillinsideme.“Whyareyoucrying?”Hisvoiceisfilledwithconcern.
“BecauseIloveyousomuch,”Iwhisper.Hehalf-closeshiseyesasif
drugged,absorbingmywords.Whenheopensthemagain,theyblazewithhis
love.
“AndIyou,Ana.Youmakeme…whole.”HekissesmegentlyasRoberta
Flackfinisheshersong.
Wehavetalkedandtalkedandtalked,sittinguprighttogetheronthebedin
theplayroom,meinhislap,ourlegscurledaroundeachother.Theredsatin
sheetisdrapedarounduslikearoyalcocoon,andIhavenoideahowmuch
timehaspassed.ChristianislaughingatmyimpersonationofKatherine
duringthephotoshootattheHeathman.
“Tothinkitcouldhavebeenherwhocametointerviewme.ThanktheLord
forthecommoncold,”hemurmursandkissesmynose.
“Ibelieveshehadflu,Christian,”Iscoldhim,trailingmyfingersidlythrough
hischesthairandmarvellingthathe’stoleratingitsowell.“Allthecanes
havegone,”Imurmur,recallingmydistractionfromearlier.Hetucksmyhair
behindmyearfortheumpteenthtime.
“Ididn’tthinkyou’devergetpastthathardlimit.”
“No,Idon’tthinkIwill,”Iwhisperwide-eyedathim,thenfindmyself
glancingoveratthewhips,paddlesandfloggersliningtheoppositewall.He
followsmygaze.
“Youwantmetogetridofthem,too?”He’samusedbutsincere.
“Notthecrop…thebrownone.Orthatsuedeflogger,youknow.”Iflush.
Hesmilesdownatme.
“Okay,thecropandtheflogger.Why,MissSteele,you’refullofsurprises.”
“Asareyou,Mr.Grey.It’soneofthethingsIloveaboutyou.”Ikisshim
gentlyatthecornerofhismouth.
“Whatelsedoyouloveaboutme?”heasksandhiseyeswiden.
Iknowit’sahugedealforhimtoaskthisquestion.IthumblesmeandIblink
athim.Iloveeverythingabouthim—evenhisfiftyshades.Iknowthatlife
withChristianwillneverbeboring.
“This.”Istrokemyindexfingeracrosshislips.“Ilovethis,andwhatcomes
outofit,andwhatyoudotomewithit.Andwhat’sinhere.”Icaresshis
temple.“You’resosmartandwittyandknowledgeable,competentinsomany
things.Butmostofall,Ilovewhat’sinhere.”Ipressmypalmgentlyagainst
hischest,feelinghissteady,beatingheart.
“YouarethemostcompassionatemanI’vemet.Whatyoudo.Howyouwork.
It’sawe-inspiring,”Iwhisper.
“Awe-inspiring?”He’spuzzled,butthere’satraceofhumouronhisface.
Thenhisfacetransforms,andhisshysmileappearsasifhe’sembarrassed,
andIwanttolaunchmyselfathim.SoIdo.
Iamdozing,wrappedinsatinandGrey.Christiannuzzlesmeawake.
“Hungry?”hewhispers
“Hmm,famished.”
“Me,too.”
Ileanuptogazedownathimsprawledonthebed.
“It’syourbirthday,Mr.Grey.I’llcookyousomething.Whatwouldyoulike?”
“Surpriseme.”Herunshishanddownmyback,strokingmegently.“Ishould
checkmyBlackberryforallthemessagesImissedyesterday.”Hesighsand
startstositup,andIknowthisspecialtimeisover…fornow.
“Let’sshower,”hesays.
WhoamItoturndownthebirthdayboy?
Christianisinhisstudyonthephone.Tayloriswithhim,lookingseriousbut
casualinjeansandatight,blackT-shirt.Ibusymyselfinthekitchenfixing
lunch.Ihavefoundsalmonsteaksinthefridge,andI’mpoachingthemwith
lemon,makingasalad,andboilingsomebabypotatoes.Ifeelextraordinarily
relaxedandhappy,ontopoftheworld—literally.
Turningtowardthelargewindow,Istareoutatthegloriousbluesky.Allthat
talking…allthatsexing…hmm.Agirlcouldgetusedtothat.
Tayloremergesfromthestudy,interruptingmyreverie.IturndownmyiPod
andtakeoutanearbud.
“Hi,Taylor.”
“Ana.”Henods.
“Yourdaughterokay?”
“Yes,thanks.Myex-wifethoughtshehadappendicitis,butshewas
overreactingasusual.”Taylorrollshiseyes,surprisingme.“Sophie’sfine,
thoughshehasanastystomachbug.”“I’msorry.”
Hesmiles.
“HasCharlieTangobeenlocated?”
“Yes.Therecoveryteamisonitsway.SheshouldbebackatBoeingField
latetonight.”
“Oh,good.”
Hegivesmeatightsmile.“Willthatbeall,ma’am?”
“Yes,yesofcourse.”Iflush…willIevergetusedtoTaylorcallingme
ma’am?Itmakesmefeelsoold,atleastthirty.
Henodsandheadsoutofthegreatroom.Christianisstillonthephone.Iam
waitingforthepotatoestoboil.Itgivesmeanidea.Fetchingmypurse,Ifish
outmyBlackberry.
There’satextfromKate.
*CUthisevening.Lookingforwardtoaloooooongchat*
Itextback.
*Samehere*
ItwillbegoodtotalktoKate.
Callingupthee-mailprogram,ItypeaquickmessagetoChristian.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Lunch
Date:June18,201113:12
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
Iame-mailingtoinformyouthatyourlunchisnearlyready.
AndthatIhadsomemind-blowing,kinkyfuckeryearliertoday.
Birthdaykinkyfuckeryistoberecommended.
Andanotherthing—Iloveyou.
Ax
(Yourfiancée)
Ilistencarefullyforareaction,buthe’sstillonthephone.Ishrug.Perhaps
he’sjusttoobusy.MyBlackberryvibrates.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:KinkyFuckery
Date:June18,201113:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
Whataspectwasmostmind-blowing?
I’mtakingnotes.
ChristianGrey
FamishedandWastingAwayAftertheMorningsExertionsCEO,Grey
EnterprisesHoldingsInc.
PS:Iloveyoursignature
PPS:Whathappenedtotheartofconversation?
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:Famished?
Date:June18,201113:18
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey
MayIdrawyourattentiontothefirstlineofmypreviouse-mailinforming
youthatyourlunchisindeedalmostready…sononeofthisfamishedand
wastingawaynonsense.
Withregardtothemind-blowingaspectsofthekinkyfuckery…frankly—all
ofit.I’dbeinterestedinreadingyournotes.AndIlikemybracketed
signature,too.
Ax
(Yourfiancée)
PS:Sincewhenhaveyoubeensoloquacious?Andyou’reonthephone!
Ipresssendandlookup,andhe’sstandinginfrontofme,smirking.BeforeI
cansayanything,heboundsaroundthekitchenisland,sweepsmeupinhis
arms,andkissesmesoundly.
“Thatisall,MissSteele,”hesays,releasingme,andhesaunters—inhis
jeans,barefeetanduntuckedwhiteshirt—backtohisoffice,leavingme
breathless.
I’vemadeawatercress,cilantro,andsourcreamdiptoaccompanythe
salmon,andI’vesetthebreakfastbar.Ihateinterruptinghimwhilehe’s
working,butnowIstandinthedoorwayofhisoffice.He’sstillonthephone,
allthoroughlyfuckedhairandbrightgreyeyes—avisuallynourishingfeast.
Helooksupwhenheseesmeanddoesn’ttakehiseyesoffme.Hefrowns
slightly,andIdon’tknowifit’satmeorbecauseofhisconversation.
“Justlettheminandleavethemalone.Doyouunderstand,Mia?”hehisses
androllshiseyes.“Good.”
Imimeeating,andhegrinsatmeandnods.
“I’llseeyoulater.”Hehangsup.“Onemorecall?”heasks.
“Sure.”
“Thatdressisveryshort,”headds.
“Youlikeit?”Igivehimaquicktwirl.It’soneofCarolineActon’spurchases.
Asoftturquoisesundress,probablymoresuitableforthebeach,butit’ssucha
lovelydayonsomanylevels.Hefrownsandmyfacefalls.
“Youlookfantasticinit,Ana.Ijustdon’twantanyoneelsetoseeyoulike
that.”
“Oh!”Iscowlathim.“We’reathome,Christian.Noonebutthestaff.”
Hismouthtwists,andeitherhe’stryingtohidehisamusementorhereally
doesn’tthinkthat’sfunny.Buteventuallyhenods,reassured.Ishakemyhead
athim—he’sactuallybeingserious?Iheadbacktothekitchen.
Fiveminuteslater,he’sbackinfrontofme,holdingthephone.
“IhaveRayforyou,”hemurmurs,hiseyeswary.
Alltheairleavesmybodyatonce.Itakethephoneandcoverthe
mouthpiece.
“Youtoldhim!”Ihiss.Christiannods,andhiseyeswidenatmyobviouslook
ofdistress.Shit!Itakeadeepbreath.“Hi,Dad.”
“Christianhasjustaskedmeifhecanmarryyou,”Raysays.
OhShit.ThesilencestretchesbetweenusasIdesperatelythinkwhattosay.
Rayasusualstayssilent,givingmenoclueastohisreactiontothisnews.
“Whatdidyousay?”Icrackfirst.
“IsaidIwantedtotalktoyou.It’skindofsudden,don’tyouthink,Annie?
You’venotknownhimlong.Imean,he’saniceguy,knowshisfishing…but
sosoon?”Hisvoiceiscalmandmeasured.
“Yes.Itissudden…hangon.”Hastily,Ileavethekitchenareaawayfrom
Christian’sanxiousgazeandheadtowardthegreatwindow.Thedoorstothe
balconyareopen,andIstepoutintothesunshine.Ican’tquitewalktothe
edge.It’sjusttoofarup.
“Iknowit’ssuddenandall—but…well,Ilovehim.Helovesme.Hewants
tomarryme,andthere’llneverbeanyoneelseforme.”Iflushthinkingthisis
probablythemostintimateconversationIhaveeverhadwithmystepfather.
Rayissilentontheotherendofthephone.
“Haveyoutoldyourmother?”
“No.”
“Annie…Iknowhe’sallkindsofrichandeligible,butmarriage?It’ssucha
bigstep.
You’resure?”
“He’smyhappilyeverafter,”Iwhisper.
“Whoa.”Raysaysafteramoment,histonesofter.
“He’severything.”
“Annie,Annie,Annie.You’resuchaheadstrongyoungwoman.Ihopeto
Godyouknowwhatyou’redoing.Handmebacktohim,willyou?”
“Sure,Dad,andwillyougivemeawayatthewedding?”Iaskquietly.
“Oh,honey.”Hisvoicecracks,andhe’squietforafewmoments,theemotion
inhisvoicebringingtearstomyeyes.“Nothingwouldgivemegreater
pleasure,”hesayseventually.
Oh,Ray.Iloveyousomuch…Iswallow,tokeepfromcrying.“Thankyou,
Dad.I’llhandyoubacktoChristian.Begentlewithhim.Ilovehim,”I
whisper.
IthinkRayissmilingontheotherendoftheline,butit’shardtotell.It’s
alwayshardtotellwithRay.
“Surething,Annie.AndcomeandvisitthisoldmanandbringthatChristian
withyou.”
Imarchbackintotheroom—pissedatChristianfornotwarningme—and
handhimthephone,myexpressionlettinghimknowjusthowpissedIam.
He’samusedashetakesthephoneandheadsbackintohisstudy.
Twominuteslater,hereappears.
“Ihaveyourstepfather’sratherbegrudgingblessing,”hesaysproudly,so
proudly,infact,thatitmakesmegiggle,andhegrinsatme.He’sactinglike
he’sjustnegotiatedamajornewmergeroracquisition,whichIsupposeon
onelevel,hehas.
“Damn,you’reagoodcook,woman.”Christianswallowshislastmouthful
andraiseshisglassofwhitewinetome.Iblossomunderhispraise,andit
occurstomeI’llonlygettocookforhimonweekends.Ifrown.Ienjoy
cooking.PerhapsIshouldhavemadehimacakeforhisbirthday.Icheckmy
watch.Istillhavetime.
“Ana?”Heinterruptsmythoughts.“Whydidyouaskmenottotakeyour
photo?”Hisquestionstartlesmeallthemorebecausehisvoiceisdeceptively
soft.
Oh…shit.Thephotos.Istaredownatmyemptyplate,twistingmyfingersin
mylap.
WhatcanIsay?I’dpromisedmyselfnottomentionthatI’dfoundhisversion
ofReaders’
Wives.
“Ana,”hesnaps.“Whatisit?”Hemakesmejump,andhisvoicecommands
metolookathim.WhendidIthinkhedidn’tintimidateme?
“Ifoundyourphotos,”Iwhisper.
Hiseyeswideninshock.“You’vebeeninthesafe?”heasks,incredulous.
“Safe?No.Ididn’tknowyouhadasafe.”
Hefrowns.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Inyourcloset.Thebox.Iwaslookingforyourtie,andtheboxwasunder
yourjeans…theonesyounormallywearintheplayroom.Excepttoday.”I
flush.
Hegapesatme,appalled,andnervouslyrunshishandthroughhishairashe
processesthisinformation.Herubshischin,lostinthought,buthecan’t
masktheperplexedannoyanceetchedonhisface.Abruptlyheshakeshis
head,exasperated—butamused,too—andafaintsmileofadmirationkisses
thecornerofhismouth.Hesteepleshishandsinfrontofhimandfocuseson
meoncemore.
“It’snotwhatyouthink.I’dforgottenallaboutthem.Thatboxhasbeen
moved.Thosephotographsbelonginmysafe.”
“Whomovedthem?”Iwhisper.
Heswallows.“There’sonlyonepersonwhocouldhavedonethat.”
“Oh.Who?Andwhatdoyoumean,‘it’snotwhatIthink’?”
Hesighsandtiltshisheadtooneside,andIthinkhe’sembarrassed.Sohe
shouldbe!
Mysubconscioussnarls.
“Thisisgoingtosoundcold,but—they’reaninsurancepolicy,”hewhispers
steelinghimselfformyresponse.
“Insurancepolicy?”
“Againstexposure.”
Thepennydropsandrattlesuncomfortablyroundandroundinmyempty
head.
“Oh,”Imurmur,becauseIcan’tthinkofwhatelsetosay.Iclosemyeyes.
Thisisit.
ThisisFiftyShadesofFucked-Up,righthere,rightnow.“Yes.You’reright,”
Imutter.
“Thatdoessoundcold.”Istandtoclearourdishes.Idon’twanttoknowany
more.
“Ana.”
“Dotheyknow?Thegirls…thesubs?”
Hefrowns.“Ofcoursetheyknow.”
Oh,well,that’ssomething.Hereachesout,grabbingmeandpullingmeto
him.
“Thosephotosaresupposedtobeinthesafe.They’renotforrecreational
use.”Hestops.“Maybetheywerewhentheyweretakenoriginally.But—”
Hestops,imploringme.
“Theydon’tmeananything.”
“Whoputtheminyourcloset?”
“ItcouldonlyhavebeenLeila.”
“Sheknowsyoursafecombination?”
Heshrugs.“Itwouldn’tsurpriseme.It’saverylongcombination,andIuseit
sorarely.
It’stheonenumberIhavewrittendownandhaven’tchanged.”Heshakeshis
head.“Iwonderwhatelsesheknowsandifshe’stakenanythingelseoutof
there.”Hefrowns,thenturnshisattentionbacktome.“Look,I’lldestroythe
photos.Now,ifyoulike.”
“They’reyourphotos,Christian.Dowiththemasyouwish,”Imutter.
“Don’tbelikethat,”hesays,takingmyheadinhishandsandholdingmy
gazetohis.
“Idon’twantthatlife.Iwantourlife,together.”
Holycow.Howdoesheknowthatbeneathmyhorroraboutthesephotosis
thefactthatI’mparanoid?
“Ana,Ithoughtweexorcisedallthoseghoststhismorning.Ifeelthatway.
Don’tyou?”
Iblinkathim,recallingourvery,verypleasurableandromanticand
downrightdirtymorninginhisplayroom.
“Yes,”Ismile.“Yes,Ifeellikethat,too.”
“Good.”Heleansforwardandkissesme,foldingmeinhisarms.“I’llshred
them,”hemurmurs.“AndthenIhavetogotowork.I’msorry,baby,butI
haveamountainofbusinesstogetthroughthisafternoon.”
“It’scool.Ihavetocallmymother.”Igrimace.“ThenIwanttodosome
shoppingandbakeyouacake.”
Hegrinsandhiseyeslightuplikeasmallboy’s.
“Acake?”
Inod.
“Achocolatecake?”
“Youwantachocolatecake?”Hisgrinisinfectious.
Henods.
“I’llseewhatIcando,Mr.Grey.”
Hekissesmeoncemore.
Carlaisstunnedintosilence.
“Mom,saysomething.”
“You’renotpregnant,areyou,Ana?”shewhispersinhorror.
“No,no,no,nothinglikethat.”Disappointmentslicesthroughmyheart,and
I’msaddenedthatshewouldthinkthatofme.ButthenIrememberwithan
ever-sinkingfeelingthatshewaspregnantwithmewhenshemarriedmy
father.
“I’msorry,darling.Thisisjustsosudden.Imean,Christianisquiteacatch,
butyou’resoyoung,andyoushouldseealittleoftheworld.”
“Mom,can’tyoujustbehappyforme?Ilovehim.”
“Darling,Ijustneedtogetusedtotheidea.It’sashock.Icouldtellin
Georgiathattherewassomethingveryspecialbetweenyoutwo,butmarriage
…?”
InGeorgiahewantedmetobehissubmissive,butIwon’ttellherthat.
“Haveyousetadate?”
“No.”
“Iwishyourfatherwasalive,”shewhispers.Ohno…notthis.Notthis,now.
“Iknow,Mom.Iwouldhavelikedtoknowhim,too.”
“Heonlyheldyouonce,andhewassoproud.Hethoughtyouwerethemost
beautifulgirlintheworld.”Hervoiceisadeathlyhushasthefamiliartaleis
retold…again.Shewillbeintearsnext.
“Iknow,Mom.”
“Andthenhedied.”Shesniffs,andIknowthishassetheroffasitdoesevery
time.
“Mom,”Iwhisper,wantingtoreachdownthephoneandholdher.
“I’masillyoldwoman,”shemurmursandshesniffsagain.“OfcourseIam
happyforyou,darling.DoesRayknow?”sheadds,andsheseemstohave
recoveredherequilibrium.
“Christian’sjustaskedhim.”
“Oh,that’ssweet.Good.”Shesoundsmelancholic,butshe’smakingan
effort.
“Yes,itwas,”Imurmur.
“Ana,darling,Iloveyousomuch.Iamhappyforyou.Andyoumustboth
visit.”
“Yes,Mom.Iloveyou,too.”
“Bobiscallingme,Ihavetogo.Letmehaveadate.Weneedtoplan…are
youhavingabigwedding?”
Bigwedding,crap.Ihaven’teventhoughtaboutthat.Bigwedding?No.I
don’twantabigwedding.
“Idon’tknowyet.AssoonasIdo,I’llcall.”
“Good.Youtakecarenowandbesafe.Youtwoneedtohavesomefun…
plentyoftimeforkidslater.”
Kids!Hmm…andthereitisagain—anot-so-veiledreferencetothefactthat
shehadmesoearly.
“Mom,Ididn’treallyruinyourlife,didI?”
Shegasps.“Ohno,Ana,neverthinkthat.Youwerethebestthingthatever
happenedtoyourfatherandme.Ijustwishhewasheretoseeyousogrown
upandgettingmarried.”
She’swistfulandmaudlinagain.
“Iwishthat,too.”Ishakemyheadthinkingaboutmymythicalfather.“Mom,
I’llletyougo.I’llcallsoon.”
“Loveyou,darling.”
“Me,too,Mom.Good-bye.”
Christian’skitchenisadreamtoworkin.Foramanwhoknowsnothing
aboutcooking,heseemstohaveeverything.IsuspectMrs.Joneslovesto
cook,too.TheonlythingIneedissomehighqualitychocolateforthe
frosting.Ileavethetwohalvesofthecakeonacoolingrack,grabmypurse,
andpopmyheadaroundChristian’sstudydoor.He’sconcentratingonhis
computerscreen.Helooksupandsmilesatme.
“I’mjustheadingtothestoretopickupsomeingredients.”
“Okay.”Hefrownsatme.
“What?”
“Yougoingtoputsomejeansonorsomething?”
Oh,comeon.“Christian,they’rejustlegs.”
Hegazesatme,unamused.Thisisgoingtobeafight.Andit’shisbirthday.I
rollmyeyesathim,feelinglikeanerrantteenager.
“Whatifwewereatthebeach?”Itakeadifferenttack.
“We’renotatthebeach.”
“Wouldyouobjectifwewereatthebeach?”
Heconsidersthisforamoment.“No,”hesayssimply.
Irollmyeyesagainandsmirkathim.“Well,justimagineweare.Laters.”I
turnandboltforthefoyer.Imakeittotheelevatorbeforehecatchesupwith
me.Asthedoorsclose,Iwaveathim,grinningsweetlyashewatches,
helpless—butfortunatelyamused—withnarrowedeyes.Heshakeshishead
inexasperation,thenIcanseehimnomore.
Oh,thatwasexciting.Adrenalineispoundingthroughmyveins,andmyheart
feelslikeitwantstoexitmychest.Butastheelevatordescends,sodomy
spirits.Shit,whathaveIdone?
Ihaveatigerbythetail.He’sgoingtobemadwhenIgetback.My
subconsciousisglaringatmeoverherhalf-moonglasses,awillowswitchin
herhand.Shit.IthinkaboutwhatlittleexperienceIhavewithmen.I’venever
livedwithamanbefore—well,exceptRay—andforsomereasonhedoesn’t
count.He’smydad…well,themanIconsidermydad.AndnowIhave
Christian.He’sneverreallylivedwithanyone,Ithink.I’llhavetoaskhim—
ifhe’sstilltalkingtome.
ButIfeelstronglythatIshouldwearwhatIlike.Irememberhisrules.Yes,
thismustbehardforhim,buthesureashellpaidforthisdress.Heshould
havegivenNeimansabetterbrief.Nothingtooshort!
Thisskirtisn’tthatshort,isit?Icheckinthelargemirrorinthelobby.Damn.
Yes,itisquiteshort,butI’vemadeastandnow.AndnodoubtI’llhaveto
facetheconsequences.Iwonderidlywhathe’lldo,butfirstIneedcash.
IstareatmyreceiptfromtheATM:$51,689.16.That’sfiftythousanddollars
toomuch!
Anastasia,you’regoingtohavetolearntoberich,too,ifyousayyes.Andso
itbegins.Itakemypaltryfiftydollarsandmakemywaytothestore.
IheadstraighttothekitchenwhenIarriveback,andIcan’thelpfeelinga
frissonofalarm.
Christianisstillinhisstudy.Jeez,that’smostoftheafternoon.Idecidemy
bestoptionistofacehimandseehowmuchdamageI’vedone.Ipeek
cautiouslyaroundhisstudydoor.
He’sonthephone,staringoutthewindow.
“AndtheEurocopterspecialistisdueMondayafternoon?…Good.Justkeep
meinformed.TellthemthatI’llneedtheirinitialfindingseitherMonday
eveningorTuesdaymorning.”Hehangsupandswivelshischairround,but
stillswhenheseesme,hisexpressionimpassive.
“Hi,”Iwhisper.Hesaysnothing,andmyheartfree-fallsintomystomach.
GingerlyIwalkintohisstudyandaroundhisdesktowherehe’ssitting.He
stillsaysnothing,hiseyesneverleavingmine.Istandinfrontofhim,feeling
fiftyshadesoffoolish.
“I’mback.Areyoumadatme?”
Hesighs,reachesoutformyhand,andpullsmeintohislap,foldinghisarms
aroundme.Heburieshisnoseinmyhair.
“Yes,”hesays.
“I’msorry.Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme.”Icurlupinhislapinhalinghis
heavenlyChristiansmell,feelingsaferegardlessofthefactthathe’smad.
“Meneither.Wearwhatyoulike,”hemurmurs.Herunshishandupmybare
legtomythigh.“Besides,thisdresshasitsadvantages.”Hebendstokissme,
andasourlipstouch,passionorlustoradeep-seatedneedtomakeamends
lancesthroughmeanddesireflaresinmyblood.Iseizehisheadinmyhands,
fistingmyfingersinhishair.Hegroansashisbodyresponds,andhehungrily
nipsatmylowerlip—mythroat,myear,histongueinvadingmymouth,and
beforeI’mevenawareofithe’sunzippinghispants,pullingmeastridehis
lap,andsinkingintome.Igraspthebackofthechair,myfeetjusttouching
theground…
andwestarttomove.
“Ilikeyourversionofsorry,”hebreathesintomyhair.
“AndIlikeyours,”Igiggle,snugglingagainsthischest.“Haveyou
finished?”
“Christ,Ana,youwantmore?”
“No!Yourwork.”
“I’llbedoneinabouthalfanhour.Iheardyourmessageonmyvoicemail.”
“Fromyesterday.”
“Yousoundedworried.”
Ihughimtightly.
“Iwas.It’snotlikeyounottorespond.”
Hekissesmyhair.
“Yourcakeshouldbereadyinhalfanhour.”Ismileathimandclimboffhis
lap.
“Lookingforwardtoit.Itsmelleddelicious,evocativeeven,whileitwas
baking.”
Ismileshylydownathim,feelingalittleself-conscious,andhemirrorsmy
expression.Jeez,arewereallysodifferent?Perhapsit’shisearlymemoriesof
baking.Leaningdown,Iplantaswiftkissonthecornerofhismouthand
makemywaybacktothekitchen.
IamallpreparedwhenIhearhimcomeoutofhisstudy,andIlightthe
solitarygoldcandleonhiscake.Hegivesmeanear-splittinggrinashe
saunterstowardme,andIsoftlysingHappyBirthdaytohim.Thenheleans
overandblowsitout,closinghiseyes.
“I’vemademywish,”hesaysasheopensthemagain,andforsomereason
hislookmakesmeflush.
“Thefrostingisstillsoft.Ihopeyoulikeit.”
“Ican’twaittotasteit,Anastasia,”hemurmurs,andhemakesthatsoundso
rude.Icutuseachaslice,andwediginwithsmallpastryforks.
“Mmm,”hegroansinappreciation.“ThisiswhyIwanttomarryyou.”
AndIlaughwithrelief…helikesit.
“Readytofacemyfamily?”ChristianswitchestheR8ignitionoff.We’re
parkedinhisparents’driveway.
“Yes.Areyougoingtotellthem?”
“Ofcourse.I’mlookingforwardtoseeingtheirreactions.”Hesmiles
wickedlyatmeandclimbsoutofthecar.
Itisseventhirty,andthoughit’sbeenawarmday,there’sacoolevening
breezeblowingoffthebay.IpullmywraparoundmeasIstepoutofthecar.
I’mwearinganemeraldgreencocktaildressIfoundthismorningwhileIwas
rummagingthroughthecloset.Ithasawidematchingbelt.Christiantakesmy
hand,andweheadtothefrontdoor.Carrickopensitwidebeforehecan
knock.
“Christian,hello.Happybirthday,son.”HetakesChristian’sprofferedhand
butpullshimintoabriefhug,surprisinghim.
“Er…thanks,Dad.”
“Ana,howlovelytoseeyouagain.”Hehugsme,too,andwefollowhiminto
thehouse.
Beforewecansetfootinthelivingroom,Katecomesbarrellingdownthe
hallwaytowardthetwoofus.Shelooksfurious.
Ohno!
“Youtwo!Iwanttotalktoyou.”Shesnarlsinheryou-better-not-fucking-
mess-with-mevoice.IglancenervouslyatChristian,whoshrugsanddecides
tohumourheraswefollowherintothediningroom,leavingCarrick
bemusedonthethresholdofthelivingroom.
Sheshutsthedoorandturnsonme.
“Whatthefuckisthis?”shehissesandwavesapieceofpaperatme.
Completelyataloss,Itakeitfromherandscanitquickly.Mymouthdries.
Holyshit.It’smye-mailresponsetoChristian,discussingthecontract.
Allthecolourdrainsfrommyfaceasmybloodturnstoiceandfearlances
throughmybody.
InstinctivelyIstepbetweenherandChristian.
“Whatisit?”Christianmurmurs,histonewary.
Iignorehim.IcannotbelieveKateisdoingthis.
“Kate!Thisisnothingtodowithyou.”Iglarevenomouslyather,anger
replacingmyfear.Howdareshedothis?Notnow,nottoday.Noton
Christian’sbirthday.Surprisedbymyresponse,sheblinksatme,greeneyes
wide.
“Ana,whatisit?”Christiansaysagain,histonemoremenacing.
“Christian,wouldyoujustgo,please?”Iaskhim.
“No.Showme.”Heholdsouthishand,andIknowhe’snottobearguedwith
—hisvoiceiscoldandhard.ReluctantlyIgivehimthee-mail.
“What’shedonetoyou?”Kateasks,ignoringChristian.Shelooksso
apprehensive.Iflushasamyriadoferoticimagesflitquicklyacrossmy
mind.
“That’snoneofyourbusiness,Kate.”Ican’tkeeptheexasperationoutofmy
voice.
“Wheredidyougetthis?”Christianasks,hisheadcockedtooneside,his
faceexpressionless,buthisvoice…somenacinglysoft.Kateflushes.
“That’sirrelevant.”Athisstonyglare,shehastilycontinues.“Itwasinthe
pocketofajacket—whichIassumeisyours—thatIfoundonthebackof
Ana’sbedroomdoor.”FacedwithChristian’sburninggreygaze,Kate’s
steelinessslipsalittle,butsheseemstorecoverandscowlsathim.
She’sabeaconofhostilityinaslinky,brightreddress.Shelooksmagnificent.
Butwhatthehellisshegoingthroughmyclothesfor?It’susuallytheother
wayround.
“Haveyoutoldanyone?”Christian’svoiceislikeasilkglove.
“No!Ofcoursenot,”Katesnaps,affronted.Christiannodsandappearsto
relax.Heturnsandheadstowardthefireplace.WordlesslyKateandIwatch
ashepicksupalighterfromthemantelpiece,setsfiretothee-mail,and
releasesit,lettingitfloatafireslowlyintothegrateuntilitisnomore.The
silenceintheroomisoppressive.
“NotevenElliot?”Iask,turningmyattentionbacktoKate.
“Noone,”Katesaysemphatically,andforthefirsttimeshelookspuzzledand
hurt.“Ijustwanttoknowyou’reokay,Ana,”shewhispers.
“I’mfine,Kate.Morethanfine.Please,ChristianandIaregood,reallygood
—thisisoldnews.Pleaseignoreit.”
“Ignoreit?”shesays.“HowcanIignorethat?What’shedonetoyou?”And
hergreeneyesaresofullofheartfeltconcern.
“Hehasn’tdoneanythingtome,Kate.Honestly—I’mgood.”
Sheblinksatme.
“Really?”sheasks.
Christianwrapsanarmaroundmeanddrawsmeclose,nottakinghiseyesoff
Kate.
“Anahasconsentedtobemywife,Katherine,”hesaysquietly.
“Wife!”Katesqueaks,hereyeswideningindisbelief.
“We’regettingmarried.We’regoingtoannounceourengagementthis
evening,”hesays.“Oh!”Kategapesatme.She’sstunned.“Ileaveyoualone
forsixteendays,andthishappens?It’sverysudden.Soyesterday,whenIsaid
—”Shegazesatme,lost.“Wheredoesthate-mailfitintoallthis?”
“Itdoesn’t,Kate.Forgetit—please.Ilovehimandhelovesme.Don’tdothis.
Don’truinhispartyandournight,”Iwhisper.Sheblinksandunexpectedly
hereyesareshiningwithtears.
“No.OfcourseIwon’t.You’reokay?”Shewantsreassurance.
“I’veneverbeenhappier,”Iwhisper.Shereachesforwardandgrabsmyhand
regardlessofChristian’sarmwrappedaroundme.
“Youreallyareokay?”sheaskshopefully.
“Yes.”Igrinather,myjoyreturning.She’sbackonside.Shesmilesatme,
myhappinessreflectingbackonher.IstepoutofChristian’shold,andshe
hugsmesuddenly.
“Oh,Ana—IwassoworriedwhenIreadthis.Ididn’tknowwhattothink.
Willyouexplainittome?”shewhispers.
“Oneday,notnow.”
“Good.Iwon’ttellanyone.Iloveyousomuch,Ana,likemyownsister.I
justthought…Ididn’tknowwhattothink.I’msorry.Ifyou’rehappy,then
I’mhappy.”ShelooksdirectlyatChristianandrepeatsherapology.Henods
ather,hiseyesglacial,andhisexpressiondoesnotchange.Ohshit,he’sstill
mad.
“Ireallyamsorry.You’reright,it’snoneofmybusiness,”shewhispersto
me.
There’saknockonthedoorthatstartlesKateandIapart.Gracepokesher
headaround.
“Everythingokay,darling?”sheasksChristian.
“Everything’sfine,Mrs.Grey,”Katesaysimmediately.
“Fine,Mom,”Christiansays.
“Good.”Graceenters.“Thenyouwon’tmindifIgivemysonabirthday
hug.”Shebeamsatbothofus.Hehugshertightlyandthawsimmediately.
“Happybirthday,darling,”shesayssoftly,closinghereyesinhisembrace.
“I’msogladyou’restillwithus.”
“Mom,I’mfine.”Christiansmilesdownather.Shepullsback,looksathim
closely,andgrins.
“I’msohappyforyou,”shesaysandcaresseshisface.
Hegrinsather—histhousandmegawattsmile.
Sheknows!Whendidhetellher?
“Well,kids,ifyou’veallfinishedyourtête-à-tête,there’sathrongofpeople
heretocheckthatyoureallyareinonepiece,Christian,andtowishyoua
happybirthday.”
“I’llberightthere.”
GraceglancesanxiouslyatKateandmeandseemsreassuredbyoursmiles.
Shewinksatmeassheholdsthedooropenforus.Christianholdsouthis
handtomeandItakeit.
“Christian,Ireallydoapologize,”Katesayshumbly.HumbleKateis
somethingtobehold.Christiannodsather,andwefollowherout.
Inthehallway,IgazeanxiouslyupatChristian.“Doesyourmotherknow
aboutus?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”Andtothinkoureveningcouldhavebeenderailedbythetenacious
MissKavanagh.Ishudderatthethought—theramificationsofChristian’s
lifestylerevealedtoall.
Holycow.
“Well,thatwasaninterestingstarttotheevening.”Ismilesweetlyathim.He
glancesdownatme—andit’sback,hisamusedlook.Thankheavens.
“Asever,MissSteele,youhaveagiftforunderstatement.”Heraisesmyhand
tohislipsandkissesmyknucklesaswewalkintothelivingroomtoa
sudden,spontaneous,anddeafeningroundofapplause.
Crap.Howmanypeoplearehere?
Iscantheroomquickly:alltheGreys,EthanwithMia,Dr.Flynnandhis
wife,Iassume.There’sMacfromtheboat,atall,handsomeAfrican
American—IrememberseeinghiminChristian’sofficethefirsttimeImet
Christian—Mia’sbitchyfriendLily,twowomenIdon’trecognizeatall,and
…Ohno.Myheartsinks.Thatwoman…Mrs.Robinson.
Gretchenmaterializeswithatrayofchampagne.She’sinalow-cutblack
dress,nopigtailsbutanupdo,flushingandflutteringhereyelashesat
Christian.Theapplausediesdown,andChristiansqueezesmyhandasall
eyesturntohimexpectantly.
“Thankyou,everyone.LookslikeI’llneedoneofthese.”Hegrabstwo
drinksoffGretchen’strayandgivesherabriefsmile.IthinkGretchen’s
goingtoexpireorswoon.
Hehandsaglasstome.
Christianraiseshisglasstotherestoftheroom,andimmediatelyeveryone
surgesforward.Leadingthechargeistheevilwomaninblack.Doessheever
wearanyothercolour?
“Christian,Iwassoworried.”Elenagiveshimabriefhugandkissesbothhis
cheeks.
Hedoesn’tletmegodespitethefactItrytofreemyhand.
“I’mgood,Elena,”Christianmutterscoolly.
“Whydidn’tyoucallme?”Herpleaisdesperate,hereyessearchinghis.
“I’vebeenbusy.”
“Didn’tyougetmymessages?”
Christianshiftsuncomfortablyandpullsmecloser,puttinghisarmaround
me.HisfaceremainsimpassiveasheregardsElena.Shecannolongerignore
me,soshenodspolitelyinmydirection.
“Ana,”shepurrs.“Youlooklovely,dear.”
“Elena,”Ipurrback.“Thankyou.”
IcatchGrace’seye.Shefrowns,watchingthethreeofus.
“Elena,Ineedtomakeanannouncement,”Christiansays,eyeingher
dispassionately.
Herclearblueeyescloud.“Ofcourse.”Shefakesasmileandstepsback.
“Everyone,”Christiancalls.Hewaitsforamomentuntilthebuzzintheroom
diesdownandalleyesareoncemoreonhim.
“Thankyouforcomingtoday.IhavetosayIwasexpectingaquietfamily
dinner,sothisisapleasantsurprise.”HestarespointedlyatMia,whogrins
andgiveshimalittlewave.Christianshakeshisheadinexasperationand
continues.
“RosandI”—heacknowledgesthered-hairedwomanstandingnearbywitha
smallbubblyblonde—“wehadaclosecallyesterday.”
Oh,that’stheRosthatworkswithhim.Shegrinsandraisesherglasstohim.
Henodsbackather.
“SoI’mespeciallygladtobeheretodaytosharewithallofyoumyvery
goodnews.
Thisbeautifulwoman”—heglancesdownatme—“MissAnastasiaRose
Steele,hasconsentedtobemywife,andI’dlikeyoutobethefirsttoknow.”
Therearegeneralgaspsofastonishment,theoddcheer,andthenaroundof
applause!
Jeez—thisisreallyhappening.IthinkIamthecolourofKate’sdress.
Christiangraspsmychin,liftsmylipstohis,andkissesmequickly.
“You’llsoonbemine.”
“Iamalready,”Iwhisper.
“Legally,”hemouthsatmeandgivesmeawickedgrin.
Lily,whoisstandingbesideMia,lookscrestfallen;Gretchenlookslikeshe’s
eatensomethingnastyandbitter.AsIglanceanxiouslyaroundatthe
assembledcrowd,IcatchsightofElena.Hermouthisopen.She’sstunned—
horrifiedeven,andIcan’thelpasmallbutintensefeelingofsatisfactionto
seeherdumbstruck.Whatthehellisshedoinghere,anyway?
CarrickandGraceinterruptmyuncharitablethoughts,andsoonIambeing
huggedandkissedandpassedaroundbyalltheGreys.
“Oh,Ana—Iamsodelightedyou’regoingtobefamily,”Gracegushes.“The
changeinChristian…He’s…happy.Iamsothankfultoyou.”Iblush,
embarrassedbyherexuberancebutsecretlydelighted,too.
“Whereisthering?”exclaimsMiaassheembracesme.
“Um…”Aring!Jeez.Ihadn’teventhoughtaboutaring.Iglanceanxiously
upatChristian.
“We’regoingtochooseonetogether.”Christianglowersather.
“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat,Grey!”shescoldshim,thenwrapsherarms
aroundhim.“I’msothrilledforyou,Christian,”shesays.She’stheonly
personIknowwhoisnotintimidatedbytheGreyglower.Ithasmequailing
…Well,itcertainlyusedto.
“Whenwillyougetmarried?Haveyousetadate?”Shebeamsupat
Christian.
Heshakeshishead,hisexasperationpalpable.“Noidea,andnowehaven’t.
AnaandIneedtodiscussallthat,”hesaysirritably.
“Ihopeyouhaveabigwedding—here,”shebeamsenthusiastically,ignoring
hiscaustictone.
“We’llprobablyflytoVegastomorrow,”hegrowlsather,andhe’srewarded
withafull-onMiaGreypoutygrimace.Rollinghiseyes,heturnstoElliot,
whogiveshimhissecondbearhuginasmanydays.
“Waytogo,bro.”HeclapsChristian’sback.
Theresponsefromtheroomisoverwhelming,andit’safewminutesbeforeI
findmyselfbackbesideChristianwithDr.Flynn.Elenaseemstohave
disappeared,andGretchenissullenlyrefillingchampagneglasses.
BesideDr.Flynnisastrikingyoungwomanwithlong,dark,almostblack
hair,cleavage,andlovelyhazeleyes.
“Christian,”saysFlynn,holdingouthishand.Christianshakesitgladly.
“John.Rhian.”Hekissesthedark-hairedwomanonhercheek.She’spetite
andpretty.
“Gladyou’restillwithus,Christian.Mylifewouldbemostdull—and
penurious—
withoutyou.”
Christiansmirks.
“John!”Rhianscolds,muchtoChristian’samusement.
“Rhian,thisisAnastasia,myfiancée.Ana,thisisJohn’swife.”
“DelightedtomeetthewomanwhohasfinallycapturedChristian’sheart.”
Rhiansmileskindlyatme.
“Thankyou,”Imutter,embarrassedagain.
“Thatwasonegooglyyoubowledthere,Christian,”Dr.Flynnshakeshis
headinamuseddisbelief.Christianfrownsathim.
“John—youandyourcricketmetaphors.”Rhianrollshereyes.
“Congratulationstothepairofyouandhappybirthday,Christian.Whata
wonderfulbirthdaypresent.”Shesmilesbroadlyatme.
IhadnoideaDr.Flynnwouldbehere,orElena.It’sashock,andIrackmy
brainstoseeifIhaveanythingtoaskhim,butabirthdaypartyhardlyseems
theappropriatevenueforapsychiatricconsult.
Forafewminutes,wemakesmalltalk.Rhianisastay-at-homemomwith
twoyoungboys.IdeducethatsheisthereasonDr.FlynnpracticesintheUS.
“She’sgood,Christian,respondingwelltotreatment.Anothercoupleof
weeksandwecanconsideranout-patientprogram.”Dr.Flynn’sand
Christian’svoicesarelow,butIcan’thelplisteningin,ratherrudelytuning
outRhian.
“Soit’sallplay-datesanddiapersatthemoment…”
“Thatmusttakeupyourtime.”Iflush,turningmyattentionbacktoRhian,
wholaughssweetly.IknowChristianandFlynnarediscussingLeila.
“Askhersomethingforme,”Christianmurmurs.
“Sowhatdoyoudo,Anastasia?”
“Ana,please.Iworkinpublishing.”
ChristianandDr.Flynnlowertheirvoicesfurther;it’ssofrustrating.Butthey
stopwhenwe’rejoinedbythetwowomenIdidn’trecognizeearlier—Ros
andthebubblyblondewhomChristianintroducesasherpartner,Gwen.
Rosischarming,andIsoondiscovertheylivealmostoppositeEscala.Sheis
fullofpraiseforChristian’spilotingskills.ItwasherfirsttimeinCharlie
Tango,andshesaysshewouldn’thesitatetogoagain.She’soneofthefew
womenI’vemetwhoisn’tdazzledbyhim…well,thereasonisobvious.
Gwenisgigglywithawrysenseofhumour,andChristianseems
extraordinarilyateasewithbothofthem.Heknowsthemwell.Theydon’t
discusswork,butIcantellthatRosisonesmartwomanwhocaneasilykeep
upwithhim.Shealsohasagreat,throaty,too-many-cigaretteslaugh.
Graceinterruptsourleisurelyconversationtoinformeveryonethatdinneris
beingservedbuffet-styleintheGreykitchen.Slowlytheguestsmaketheir
waytowardthebackofthehouse.
Miacollarsmeinthehallway.Inherpalepink,frothybabydolldressand
killerheels,shetowersovermelikeaChristmastreefairy.She’sholdingtwo
cocktailglasses.
“Ana,”shehissesconspiratorially.IglanceupatChristian,whoreleasesme
withabest-of-luck-I-find-her-impossible-to-deal-with-toolook,andIsneak
intothediningroomwithher.
“Here,”shesaysmischievously.“Thisisoneofmydad’sspeciallemon
martinis—
muchnicerthanchampagne.”Shehandsmeaglassandwatchesanxiously
whileItakeatentativesip.
“Hmm…delicious.Butstrong.”Whatdoesshewant?Isshetryingtogetme
drunk?
“Ana,Ineedsomeadvice.AndIcan’taskLily—she’ssojudgmentalabout
everything.”Miarollshereyesthengrinsatme.“Sheissojealousofyou.I
thinkshewashopingonedaythatsheandChristianmightgettogether.”Mia
burstsoutlaughingattheabsurdity,andIquailinside.
ThisissomethingIwillhavetocontendwithforalongtime—otherwomen
wantingmyman.Ipushtheunwelcomethoughtoutofmyheadanddistract
myselfwiththematterinhand.Itakeanothersipofmymartini.
“I’lltryandhelp.Fireaway.”
“Asyouknow,EthanandImetrecently,thankstoyou.”Shebeamsatme.
“Yes.”Wherethehellisshegoingwiththis?
“Ana—hedoesn’twanttodateme.”Shepouts.
“Oh.”Iblinkather,stunned,andIthink,Maybehe’sjustnotthatintoyou.
“Look,thatsoundedallwrong.Hedoesn’twanttodatebecausehissisteris
goingoutwithmybrother.Youknow—hethinksit’sallkindofincestuous.
ButIknowhelikesme.
WhatcanIdo?”
“Oh,Isee,”Imutter,tryingtobuymyselfsometime.WhatcanIsay?“Can
youagreetobefriendsandgiveitsometime?Imeanyou’veonlyjustmet
him.”
ShecockshereyebrowandIflush.
“Look,IknowI’veonlyreallyjustmetChristianbut…”Iscowlathernot
surewhatIwanttosay.“Mia,thisissomethingyouandEthanhavetowork
outtogether.Iwouldtrythefriendshiproute.”
Miagrins.
“You’velearnedthatlookfromChristian.”
Iflush.“Ifyouwantadvice,askKate.Shemayhavesomeinsightastohow
herbrotherfeels.”
“Youthink?”Miaasks.
“Yes.”Ismileencouragingly.
“Cool.Thanks,Ana.”Shegivesmeanotherhugandscuttlesexcitedly—and
impressively,givenherhighheels—tothedoor,nodoubtofftobotherKate.I
takeanothersipofmymartini,andI’mabouttofollowherwhenIam
stoppedinmytracks.
Elenabreezesintotheroom,herfacetaut,setingrim,angrydetermination.
Sheclosesthedoorquietlybehindherandscowlsatme.
Ohcrap.
“Ana,”shesneers.
Isummonallmyself-possession,slightlyfuzzyfromtwoglassesof
champagneandthelethalcocktailIholdinmyhand.Ithinkthebloodhas
drainedfrommyface,butImarshalbothmysubconsciousandmyinner
goddessinordertoappearascalmandasunflappableasIcan.
“Elena.”Myvoiceissmall,butsteady—despitemydrymouth.Whydoesthis
womanfreakmeoutsomuch?Andwhatdoesshewantnow?
“Iwouldofferyoumyheartfeltcongratulations,butIthinkthatwouldbe
inappropriate.”Herpiercingcoldblueeyesstarefrostilyintomine,filledwith
loathing.
“Ineitherneednorwantyourcongratulations,Elena.I’msurprisedand
disappointedtoseeyouhere.”
Shearchesaneyebrow.Ithinkshe’simpressed.
“Iwouldn’thavethoughtofyouasaworthyadversary,Anastasia.Butyou
surprisemeateveryturn.”
“Ihaven’tthoughtofyouatall,”Ilie,coolly.Christianwouldbeproud.
“Nowifyou’llexcuseme,Ihavemuchbetterthingstodothanwastemytime
withyou.”
“Notsofast,missy,”shehisses,leaningagainstthedoor,effectivelyblocking
it.“Whatonearthdoyouthinkyou’redoing,consentingtomarryChristian?
Ifyouthinkforoneminuteyoucanmakehimhappy,you’reverymuch
mistaken.”
“WhatI’mconsentingtodowithChristianisnoneofyourconcern.”Ismile
withsarcasticsweetness.Sheignoresme.
“Hehasneeds—needsyoucannotpossiblybegintosatisfy,”shegloats.
“Whatdoyouknowofhisneeds?”Isnarl.Mysenseofindignationflares
brightly,burninginsidemeasadrenalinesurgesthroughmybody.Howdare
thisfuckingbitchpreachtome?“You’renothingbutasickchildmolester,
andifitwasuptome,I’dtossyouintotheseventhcircleofhellandwalk
awaysmiling.Nowgetoutofmyway—ordoIhavetomakeyou?”
“You’remakingabigmistakehere,lady.”Sheshakesalong,skinny,finely
manicuredfingeratme.“Howdareyoujudgeourlifestyle?Youknow
nothing,andyouhavenoideawhatyou’regettingyourselfinto.Andifyou
thinkhe’sgoingtobehappywithamousylittlegold-diggerlikeyou…”
That’sit!Ithrowtherestofmylemonmartiniinherface,drenchingher.
“Don’tyoudaretellmewhatI’mgettingmyselfinto!”Ishoutather.“When
willyoulearn?It’snoneofyourgoddamnedbusiness!”
Shegapesatme,horrorstruck,wipingthestickydrinkoffherface.Ithink
she’sabouttolungeatme,butshe’ssuddenlyshuntedforwardasthedoor
opens.
Christianisstandinginthedoorway.Ittakeshimananosecondtoassessthe
situation—meashenandshaking,hersoakedandlivid.Hislovelyface
darkensandcontortswithangerashecomestostandbetweenus.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoing,Elena?”hesays,hisvoiceglacialandlaced
withmenace.Sheblinksupathim.“She’snotrightforyou,Christian,”she
whispers.
“What?”heshouts,startlingbothofus.Ican’tseehisfacebuthiswholebody
hastensed,andheradiatesanimosity.
“Howthefuckdoyouknowwhat’srightforme?”
“Youhaveneeds,Christian,”shesayshervoicesofter.
“I’vetoldyoubefore—thisisnoneofyourfuckingbusiness,”heroars.Oh
crap—VeryAngryChristianhasrearedhisnot-so-uglyhead.Peoplearegoing
tohear.
“Whatisthis?”Hepauses,glaringather.“Doyouthinkit’syou?You?You
thinkyou’rerightforme?”Hisvoiceissofterbutdripscontempt,and
suddenlyIdon’twanttobehere.Idon’twanttowitnessthisintimate
encounter.I’mintruding.ButI’mstuck—mylimbsunwillingtomove.
Elenaswallowsandseemstodrawherselfupright.Herstancechangessubtly,
becomesmorecommanding,andshestepstowardhim.
“Iwasthebestthingthateverhappenedtoyou,”shehissesarrogantlyathim.
“Lookatyounow.Oneoftherichest,mostsuccessful,entrepreneursinthe
US—controlled,driven—youneednothing.Youaremasterofyouruniverse.”
Hestepsbackasifhe’sbeenstruckandgapesatherinoutrageddisbelief.
“Youlovedit,Christian,don’ttryandkidyourself.Youwereontheroadto
self-destruction,andIsavedyoufromthat,savedyoufromalifebehindbars.
Believeme,baby,that’swhereyouwouldhaveendedup.Itaughtyou
everythingyouknow,everythingyouneed.”
Christianblanches,staringatherinhorror.Whenhespeaks,hisvoiceislow
andincredulous.
“Youtaughtmehowtofuck,Elena.Butit’sempty,likeyou.NowonderLinc
left.”
Bilerisesinmymouth.Ishouldnotbehere.ButI’mfrozentothespot,
morbidlyfascinatedastheyeviscerateeachother.
“Youneveronceheldme,”Christianwhispers.“Youneveroncesaidyou
lovedme.”
Shenarrowshereyes.“Loveisforfools,Christian.”
“Getoutofmyhouse.”Grace’simplacable,furiousvoicestartlesus.Three
headsswingrapidlytowhereGracestandsonthethresholdoftheroom.She
isglaringatElena,whopalesbeneathherSt.Tropeztan.
Timeseemssuspendedaswecollectivelytakeadeepgaspingbreath,and
Gracestalksdeliberatelyintotheroom.Hereyesblazewithfury,neveronce
leavingElena,untilshestandsbeforeher.Elena’seyeswideninalarm,and
Graceslapsherhardacrosstheface,thesoundoftheimpactresoundingoff
thewallsofthediningroom.
“Takeyourfilthypawsoffmyson,youwhore,andgetoutofmyhouse—
now!”shehissesthroughgrittedteeth.
Elenaclutchesherreddeningcheekandstaresinhorrorforamoment,
shockedandblinkingatGrace.Thenshehurriesfromtheroom,notbothering
toclosethedoorbehindher.GraceturnsslowlytofaceChristianandatense
silencesettleslikeathickblanketoverusasChristianandGracestareateach
other.Afterabeat,Gracespeaks.
“Ana,beforeIhandhimovertoyou,wouldyoumindgivingmeaminuteor
twoalonewithmyson?”Hervoiceisquiet,husky,butoh-so-strong.
“Ofcourse,”Iwhisper,andexitasquicklyasIcan,glancinganxiouslyover
myshoulder.ButneitherofthemlookatmeasIleave.Theycontinuetostare
ateachother,theirunspokencommunicationblaringlyloud.
Inthehallway,Iammomentarilylost.Myheartpoundsandmybloodraces
throughmyveins…Ifeelpanickedandoutofmydepth.Holyfuck,thatwas
heavyandnowGraceknows.Crap.Ican’tthinkwhatshe’sgoingtosayto
Christian,andIknowit’swrong,Iknow,butIleanagainstthedoortryingto
listen.
“Howlong,Christian?”Grace’svoiceissoft.Icanbarelyhearher.
Icannothearhisreply.
“Howoldwereyou?”Hervoiceismoreinsistent.“Tellme.Howoldwere
youwhenthisallstarted?”AgainIcan’thearChristian.
“Everythingokay,Ana?”Rosinterruptsme.
“Yes.Fine.Thankyou.I…”
Rossmiles.“I’mjustgoingtofetchmypurse.Ineedacigarette.”
Forabriefmoment,Icontemplatejoiningher.
“I’mofftothebathroom.”Ineedtogathermywitsandmythoughts,to
processwhatI’vejustwitnessedandheard.Upstairsseemsthesafestplaceto
beonmyown.IwatchRosstrollintothedrawingroom,andIbolttwostairs
atatimetothesecondfloor,thenuptothethird.There’sonlyoneplaceI
wanttobe.
IopenthedoortoChristian’schildhoodbedroomandshutitbehindme,
takingahugegulpingbreath.Headingforhisbed,Iflopontoitandstareat
theplainwhiteceiling.
Holycow.Thathastobe,withoutdoubt,oneofthemostexcruciating
confrontationsI’veeverhadtoendure,andnowIfeelnumb.Myfiancéand
hisex-lover—nowould-bebrideshouldhavetoseethat.Havingsaidthat,
partofmeisgladshe’srevealedhertrueself,andthatIwastheretobear
witness.
MythoughtsturntoGrace.PoorGrace,tohearallthat.Iclutchoneof
Christian’spillows.She’llhaveoverheardthatChristianandElenahadan
affair—butnotthenatureofit.Thankheavens.Igroan.
WhatamIdoing?Perhapstheevilwitchhadapoint.
No,Irefusetobelievethat.She’ssocoldandcruel.Ishakemyhead.She’s
wrong.IamrightforChristian.Iamwhatheneeds.Andinamomentof
stunningclarity,Idon’tquestionhowhe’slivedhislifeuntilrecently—but
why.Hisreasonsfordoingwhathe’sdonetocountlessgirls—Idon’teven
wanttoknowhowmany.Thehowisn’twrong.Theywerealladults.They
wereall—howdidFlynnputit?—insafe,sane,consensualrelationships.It’s
thewhy.Thewhywaswrong.Thewhywasfromhisplaceofdarkness.
Iclosemyeyesanddrapemyarmoverthem.Butnowhe’smovedon,leftit
behind,andwearebothinthelight.I’mdazzledbyhimandhebyme.We
canguideeachother.Athoughtoccurstome.Shit!Agnawing,insidious
thoughtandI’mintheoneplacewhereIcanlaythisghosttorest.Isitup.
Yes,Imustdothis.
ShakilyIgettomyfeet,kickoffmyshoes,walkovertohisdesk,and
examinethepinboardaboveit.ThephotosofyoungChristianareallstill
there—morepoignantthaneverasIthinkofthespectacleI’vejustwitnessed
betweenhimandMrs.Robinson.Andthereinthecorneristhesmallblack
andwhitephoto—hismother,thecrackwhore.
Iswitchonthedesklampandfocusthelightonherpicture.Idon’teven
knowhername.ShelookssomuchlikehimbutyoungerandsadderandallI
feel,lookingathersorrowfulface,iscompassion.Itrytoseethesimilarities
betweenherfaceandmine.Isquintatthepicture,gettingreally,reallyclose,
andseenone.Exceptmaybeourhair,butIthinkhersislighterthanmine.I
don’tlooklikeheratall.It’sarelief.
Mysubconscioustutsatme,armscrossed,glaringoverherhalf-moon
glasses.Whyareyoutorturingyourself?You’vesaidyes.You’vemadeyour
bed.Ipursemylipsather.
YesIhave,gladlyso.IwanttolieinthatbedwithChristianfortherestofmy
life.Myinnergoddess,sittinginthelotusposition,smilesserenely.Yes.I’ve
madetherightdecision.
Imustfindhim—Christianwillbeworried.IhavenoideahowlongI’vebeen
inhisroom;he’llthinkthatI’vefled.IrollmyeyesasIcontemplatehis
overreaction.IhopethatheandGracehavefinished.Ishuddertothinkwhat
elseshemighthavesaidtohim.
ImeetChristianasheclimbsthestairstothesecondfloor,lookingforme.
Hisfaceisstrainedandweary—notthecarefreeFiftyIarrivedwith.AsI
standonthelanding,hestopsonthetopstairsothatweareeyetoeye.
“Hi,”hesayscautiously.
“Hi,”Ianswerwarily.
“Iwasworried—”
“Iknow,”Iinterrupthim.“I’msorry—Icouldn’tfacethefestivities.Ijusthad
togetaway,youknow.Tothink.”Reachingup,Icaresshisface.Hecloses
hiseyesandleanshisfaceintomyhand.
“Andyouthoughtyou’ddothatinmyroom?”
“Yes.”
Hereachesformyhandandpullsmeintoanembrace,andIgowillinglyinto
hisarms,myfavouriteplaceinthewholeworld.Hesmellsoffreshlaundry,
bodywash,andChristian—themostcalmingandarousingscentonthe
planet.Heinhaleswithhisnoseinmyhair.“I’msorryyouhadtoendureall
that.”
“It’snotyourfault,Christian.Whywasshehere?”Hegazesdownatme,and
hismouthcurlsapologetically.
“She’safamilyfriend.”
Itrynottoreact.“Notanymore.How’syourmom?”
“Momisprettyfuckingmadatmerightnow.I’mreallygladyou’rehere,and
thatwe’reinthemiddleofaparty.OtherwiseImightbebreathingmylast.”
“Thatbad,huh?”
Henods,hiseyesserious,andIsensehisbewildermentatherreaction.
“Canyoublameher?”Myvoiceisquiet,cajoling.
Hehugsmetightlyandheseemsuncertain,processinghisthoughts.
Finallyheanswers.“No.”
Whoa!Breakthrough.“Canwesit?”Iask.
“Sure.Here?”
Inodandwebothsitatthetopofthestairs.
“So,howdoyoufeel?”Iask,anxiouslyclutchinghishandandgazingathis
sad,seriousface.
Hesighs.
“Ifeelliberated.”Heshrugs,thenbeams—aglorious,carefreeChristian
smile,andthewearinessandstrainpresentmomentsagohavevanished.
“Really?”Ibeamback.Wow,I’dcrawloverbrokenglassforthatsmile.
“Ourbusinessrelationshipisover.Done.”
Ifrownathim.“Willyouliquidatethesalonbusiness?”
Hesnorts.“I’mnotthatvindictive,Anastasia,”headmonishesme.“No.I’ll
giftthemtoher.I’lltalktomylawyerMonday.Ioweherthatmuch.”
Iarchaneyebrowathim.“NomoreMrs.Robinson?”Hismouthtwistsin
amusementandheshakeshishead.
“Gone.”
Igrin.
“I’msorryyoulostafriend.”
Heshrugsthensmirks.“Areyou?”
“No,”Iconfess,flushing.
“Come.”Hestandsandoffersmehishand.“Let’sjointhepartyinour
honour.Imightevengetdrunk.”
“Doyougetdrunk?”IaskasItakehishand.
“NotsinceIwasawildteenager.”Wewalkdownthestairs.
“Haveyoueaten?”heasks.
Ohcrap.
“No.”
“Wellyoushould.FromthelookandsmellofElena,thatwasoneofmy
father’slethalcocktailsyouthrewoverher.”Hegazesatme,tryingand
failingtokeeptheamusementoffhisface.
“Christian,I—”
Heholdsuphishand.
“Noarguing,Anastasia.Ifyou’regoingtodrink—andthrowalcoholovermy
exes—
youneedtoeat.It’srulenumberone.Ibelievewe’vealreadyhadthat
discussionafterourfirstnighttogether.”
Ohyes.TheHeathman.
Backinthehallway,hepausestocaressmyface,hisfingersskimmingmy
jaw.
“Ilayawakeforhoursandwatchedyousleep,”hemurmurs.“Imighthave
lovedyoueventhen.”
Oh.
Heleansdownandkissesmesoftly,andImelteverywhere,allthetensionof
thelasthourorsoseepinglanguidlyfrommybody.
“Eat,”hewhispers.
“Okay,”IacquiescebecauserightnowI’dprobablydoanythingforhim.
Takingmyhand,heleadsmetowardthekitchenwherethepartyisinfull
swing.
“Goodnight,John,Rhian.”
“Congratulationsagain,Ana.Youtwowillbejustfine.”Dr.Flynnsmiles
kindlyatus,standingarminarminthehallwayasheandRhiantaketheir
leave.
“Goodnight.”
Christianclosesthedoorandshakeshishead.Hegazesdownatme,hiseyes
suddenlybrightwithexcitement.
What’sthis?
“Justthefamilyleft.Ithinkmymotherhashadtoomuchtodrink.”Graceis
singingkaraokeonsomegameconsoleinthefamilyroom.KateandMiaare
givingherarunforhermoney.
“Doyoublameher?”Ismirkathim,tryingtokeeptheatmospherebetween
uslight.
Isucceed.
“Areyousmirkingatme,MissSteele?”
“Iam.”
“It’sbeenquiteaday.”
“Christian,recently,everydaywithyouhasbeenquiteaday.”Myvoiceis
sardonic.
Heshakeshishead.“Fairpointwellmade,MissSteele.Come—Iwantto
showyousomething.”Takingmyhand,heleadsmethroughthehousetothe
kitchenwhereCarrick,Ethan,andElliotaretalkingMariners,drinkingthe
lastofthecocktails,andeatingleftovers.
“Offforastroll?”Elliotteasessuggestivelyaswemakeourwaythroughthe
Frenchdoors.Christianignoreshim.CarrickfrownsatElliot,shakinghis
headinasilentrebuke.
Aswemakeourwayupthestepstothelawn,Itakeoffmyshoes.Thehalf-
moonshinesbrightlyoverthebay.It’sbrilliant,castingeverythinginmyriad
ofshadesofgreyasthelightsofSeattletwinklesweetlyinthedistance.The
lightsoftheboathouseareon,asoftglowingbeaconinthecoolcastofthe
moon.
“Christian,I’dliketogotochurchtomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Iprayedyou’dcomebackaliveandyoudid.It’stheleastIcoulddo.”
“Okay.”
Wewanderhandinhandinarelaxedsilenceforafewmoments.Then
somethingoccurstome.
“WhereareyougoingtoputthephotosJosétookofme?”
“Ithoughtwemightputtheminthenewhouse.”
“Youboughtit?”
Hestopstostareatme,andhisvoicefullofconcern.“Yes.Ithoughtyou
likedit.”
“Ido.Whendidyoubuyit?”
“Yesterdaymorning.Nowweneedtodecidewhattodowithit,”hemurmurs,
relieved.
“Don’tknockitdown.Please.It’ssuchalovelyhouse.Itjustneedssome
tenderlovingcare.”
Christianglancesatmeandsmiles.“Okay.I’lltalktoElliot.Heknowsagood
architect;shedidsomeworkonmyplaceisAspen.Hecandothe
remodelling.”
Isnort,suddenlyrememberingthelasttimewecrossedthelawnunderthe
moonlighttotheboathouse.Oh,perhapsthat’swhatwe’regoingtodonow.I
grin.
“What?”
“Irememberthelasttimeyoutookmetotheboathouse.”
Christianchucklesquietly.“Oh,thatwasfun.Infact…”Hesuddenlystops
andscoopsmeoverhisshoulder,andIsqueal,thoughwedon’thavefarto
go.
“Youwerereallyangry,ifIremembercorrectly,”Igasp.
“Anastasia,I’malwaysreallyangry.”
“Noyou’renot.”
Heswatsmybehindashestopsoutsidethewoodendoor.Heslidesmedown
hisbodybacktothegroundandtakesmyheadinhishands.
“No,notanymore.”Leaningdown,hekissesme,hard.Whenhepullsaway,
I’mbreathlessanddesireisracingroundmybody.
Hegazesdownatme,andintheglowofthestripoflightcomingfrominside
theboathouse,Icanseehe’sanxious.Myanxiousman,notawhiteknightor
adarkknight,butaman—abeautiful,not-quite-so-fucked-upman—whomI
love.Ireachupandcaresshisface,runningmyfingersthroughhissideburns
andalonghisjawtohischin,thenletmyindexfingertouchhislips.He
relaxes.
“I’vesomethingtoshowyouinhere,”hemurmursandopensthedoor.
Theharshlightofthefluorescentsilluminatestheimpressivemotorlaunchin
thedock,bobbinggentlyonthedarkwater.There’sarowboatbesideit.
“Come.”Christiantakesmyhandandleadsmeupthewoodenstairs.
Openingthedooratthetop,hestepsasidetoletmein.
Mymouthdropstothefloor.Theatticisunrecognizable.Theroomisfilled
withflowers…thereareflowerseverywhere.Someonehascreatedamagical
bowerofbeautifulwildmeadowflowersmixedwithglowingfairylightsand
miniaturelanternsthatglowsoftandpaleroundtheroom.
Myfacewhipsroundtomeethis,andhe’sgazingatme,hisexpression
unreadable.
Heshrugs.
“Youwantedheartsandflowers,”hemurmurs.
Iblinkathim,notquitebelievingwhatI’mseeing.
“Youhavemyheart.”Andhewavestowardtheroom.
“Andherearetheflowers,”Iwhisper,completinghissentence.“Christian,
it’slovely.”
Ican’tthinkofwhatelsetosay.Myheartisinmymouthastearsprickmy
eyes.
Tuggingmyhand,hepullsmeintotheroom,andbeforeIknowit,he’s
sinkingtoonekneeinfrontofme.Holyhell…Ididnotexpectthis!Istop
breathing.
Fromhisinsidejacketpocketheproducesaringandgazesupatme,hiseyes
brightgreyandraw,fullofemotion.
“AnastasiaSteele.Iloveyou.Iwanttolove,cherish,andprotectyouforthe
restofmylife.Bemine.Always.Sharemylifewithme.Marryme.”
Iblinkdownathimasmytearsfall.MyFifty,myman.Ilovehimso,andall
Icansayasthetidalwaveofemotionhitsmeis,“Yes.”
Hegrins,relieved,andslowlyslidestheringonmyfinger.It’sbeautiful,an
ovaldiamondinaplatinumring.Jeez—it’sbig…Big,butoh-so-simpleand
stunninginitssimplicity.
“Oh,Christian,”Isob,suddenlyoverwhelmedwithjoy,andIjoinhimonmy
knees,myfingersfistinginhishairasIkisshim,kisshimwithallmyheart
andsoul.Kissthisbeautifulman,wholovesmeasIlovehim;andashe
wrapshisarmsaroundme,hishandsmovingtomyhair,hismouthonmine.I
knowdeepdownIwillalwaysbehis,andhewillalwaysbemine.We’ve
comesofartogether,wehavesofartogo,butwearemadeforeachother.
Wearemeanttobe.
Thecigaretteendglowsbrightlyinthedarknessashetakesadeeppull.He
blowsthesmokeoutinalongexhale,finishingwithtwosmokeringsthat
dissolveinfrontofhim,paleandghostlyinthemoonlight.Heshiftsinhis
seat,bored,andtakesaquickshotofcheapbourbonfromabottlewrappedin
shabbybrownpaperbeforerestingitbackbetweenhisthighs.
Hecan’tbelievehe’sstillonthetrail.Hismouthtwistsinasardonicsneer.
Thehelicopterhadbeenarashandboldmove.Oneofthemostexhilarating
thingshe’deverdoneinhislife.Buttonoavail.Herollshiseyesironically.
Whowouldhavethoughttheson-of-a-bitchcouldactuallyflythefucker?
Hesnorts.
Theyhaveunderestimatedhim.IfGreythoughtforoneminutehe’dgo
whimperingquietlyintothedusk,thatprickdidn’tknowjackshit.
Ithadbeenthesameallhislife.Peopleconstantlyunderestimatinghim—just
amanwhoreadsbooks.Fuckthat!Amanwithaphotographicmemorywho
readsbooks.Oh,thethingshe’slearned,thethingsheknows.Hesnortsagain
—Yeah,aboutyou,Grey.ThethingsIknowaboutyou.
NotbadforakidfromthegutterendofDetroit.
NotbadforthekidwhowonascholarshiptoPrinceton.
Notbadforthekidwhoworkedhisassoffthroughcollegeandgotinto
publishing.
Andnowallofthat’sfucked,fuckedbecauseofGreyandhislittlebitch.He
scowlsatthehouseasifitrepresentseverythinghedespises.Butthere’s
nothingdoing.Theonlydramahadbeenthestacked,blondbroadinblack,
teeteringdownthedrivewayintearsbeforesheclimbedintothewhiteCLK
andfuckedoff.
Hechucklesmirthlessly,thenwinces.Fuck,hisribs.Stillsorefromtheswift
kickingGrey’shenchmandelivered.
Hereplaysthesceneinhismind.“YoufuckingtouchMissSteeleagain,I’ll
fuckingkillyou.”
Thatmotherfuckerwillgetitgood,too.Yeah—getwhat’scomingtohim.
Hesettlesbackinhisseat.Lookslikeit’sgoingtobealongnight.He’llstay,
watch,andwait.HetakesanothertokeofhisMarlborored.Hischancewill
come.Hischancewillcomesoon.
EndofPartTwo…
